Beautiful Boy
by kaitlin.perkins42
Summary: When Sara's turning 11, her birthday present is a slave of her very own. That slave just happens to be...Gil Grissom. Eventual GSR as they age and it becomes appropriate. Warning: Mentions of child abuse and references to rape. I do not condone slavery.
1. And This One

Title: Beautiful Boy  
Rating: PG-13 (for adult situations) for now, it could get worse...not sure  
Disclaimer: Any recognizable characters are property of CBS. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit of any kind is being made. If I owned the show, the wouldn't be on the net, you'd be watching it (which is probably why I _don't _own the show!)  
Warning: Mentions of child abuse and mild references to rape. Slavery is a _major _concept in this story. (Doesn't mean I don't think it's wrong)AU  
Summary: When Sara's turning 11, her birthday present is a slave of her very own. That slave just happens to be...Gil Grissom. Eventual GSR as they age and it becomes appropriate.

* * *

Gil rolled over on his side and let out a quiet breath as his mother ran her hand through his curls. "It will be alright." He could make out her hands signing in the near darkness when he heard the door open. The cot squeaked as he sat up and stared at the guard in the doorway. His mother's arm was wrapped around his chest, and he felt a scar on his bare skin.

"C'mon boy." The guard from the doorway called to Gil. Tears threatened to fall as he stood and his mother grasped his hand, crying quietly.

Just as he turned around to sign that he would look for her, Gil was grabbed around his small waist and pulled out. His mother's cries were audible as they closed her door and dragged him down the sterile hallway to a metal door. Pushing through it, he saw that against the right wall of the room, three teenage boys were lined up with their hands tied behind their backs. Unceremoniously, he was thrown into the line and his hands were bound with some twine as well.

The guard left but quickly retuned with an owner behind him. The male was in a dark suit with his wife on his arm and a small girl with brown hair trailed behind the couple. When the girl made eye contact, Gil flinched and tried to bend his knees to hide himself. Immediately, the girl walked up to her father (Gil guessed it was her father) and tugged on his sleeve.

"I want that one Daddy." Her small, pale finger was pointing at his chest. Following the pointing digit, her mother walked up to Gil and looked him over with extreme scrutiny.

"How old are you?"

"I'm…15." Couldn't help but blush when her hand ran over his stomach.

"He's strong," she turned to her husband, "he'll be a man soon."

"Please Daddy?"

"How much is he?"

Upon being asked, the guard in the corner of the room stepped forward and pulled out a clipboard, "Number 4052? $70,000."

"He's expensive, Sara."

"Daddy, I want him."

Gil was expensive because he had been well proved in the sex trade over his years of enslavement. With this little girl here, he hoped this family wouldn't be using him for that.

"Well, I suppose it _is _a birthday gift. Okay, we'll take that one."

Gil was grabbed roughly by another guard and led by his cuffed hands outside into the light. There was a large, black car awaiting them, and someone lifted him onto a blanket on the floor of the backseat. The carpet was soft enough, and in an attempt to block out the pain, he curled up and closed his eyes, trying not to think of his mom.

Most likely karma was paying him back for dozing off, because he woke later with an extreme need to pee. Cautiously, curiously, he looked up from his spot in between the front and backseat. The girl, Sara, was playing with something electronic which beeped often. Reaching out a tentative finger, he tapped her shin. She started, but looked down at him. "Yes?"

"I hate to be a bother," he apologized quietly," but do you know if I'll be able to…um…use the washroom anytime soon?"

"Of course." Sara tapped on the window separating the front from the back, and Gil heard it slide down. "Mommy?" she asked, leaning forward. "Can we pull over? He has to go to the bathroom."

"I suppose we can't have him staining the rug."

At her words, Gil winced. No matter how often people talked about his as if her were a beast, not even there, he would never get used to it. The window closed and in a moment, they stopped. Kindly, Sara helped him out of the back, but he wasn't allowed to walk far. His hands were still tied behind his back, and when he came back, Sara's mother frowned at the mess he had made on himself.

"Look at that."

"It's not his fault, Mommy," Sara retorted, as Gil looked bashfully at the ground. "You have to untie his hands, he's a boy." His face was flaming and he climbed into the back seat before anything else could be said about the current situation.

"I'm sorry about her, she's not always like that, though, I swear. It's not your fault, what happened. My dad and I know it." Situating herself in the seat before the car started moving again, Sara tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear amd she smiled down at him. "I can untie your hands if you like."

"Yes, I'd like that very much. Thank you." Grateful, he rolled over so she could undo the difficult know in the twine and felt his wrists quickly released from the confines. Unable to control himself, Gil pulled his hands around to his front, massaging the sore, red marks. "Thank you," he grinned sadly at her and she smiled back.

"You're welcome. I don't think it's fair for them to tie you up like an animal, you're not one."

"Thank you," his voice cracked and, embarrassed, he rolled over to face the back of the seat.

"What's your name?" she asked. Meaning to comfort him, Sara placed a hand on his shoulder, but he flinched.

"Gil…"

"Gil? That's an…odd name," she took her hand away.

He rolled over to look up at her, "It's short for Gilbert. How old are you?"

She smiled down at him, "In two days, I'll be eleven years old."

"Oh."

They were both silent for the remainder of the ride home. When the car pulled into the courtyard and stopped, someone opened the door and Sara stepped out of the vehicle before turning and helping Gil out. "Come on, I'll show you where you're sleeping." Her parents watched, frowning slightly as she carted the young man off.

A man opened the huge front door for them and Sara led Gil up a set of stairs to their left. As soon as they reached the top, they turned to a door on the right. In the room, there sat a mattress and a small orange crate, a window showed the garden in the backyard.

"I know it's not much," she said apologetically, letting him in.

"It's okay," he said, clambering onto the mattress and pulling the single sheet over himself. "I'm really tired." There was a tone of finality in his voice that made Sara's mood fall.

"Okay," she frowned, hurt, "I'll come back later."

------------

When Gil woke, he had kicked his sheet off, most likely because he wasn't used to having a sheet. He heard a slightly muffled noise and stuck his ear to the wall, both hands splayed out like stars against the dividing structure.

"It's not fair, Mommy! He's embarrassed. He's uncomfortable."

"He's not my child. I do not have to."

"Then give me money, I'll go buy him some clothes."

"You don't even know his size. I'm sure _he _doesn't know his size!"

"Gil is my gift, and I want him to be treated well. At least buy him some underwear."

He blushed and buried his face in the mattress. No one except for his mother had ever cared so much for him – even if Sara did consider him an object.

"Fine, Sara, you are so odd. I'll buy the boy some underwear. Happy?"

"Yes. Thank you."

As he heard steps drawing towards his room, he relaxed his pose and slowed his breathing. He was good at pretending to be asleep after all of his years of service. Sara opened the door quickly, not worrying about waking him.

"How much did you hear?" she asked, stepping in and closing the door behind her.

He rolled over slowly, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. "What?"

"I came in before to check on you and you were on your back with your hands on your stomach. Now you're lying on your stomach. I know you were awake."

"Oh, I um…I just…"

"'How much did you hear?' I asked." It was the first time he had heard the slightest bit of annoyance or sourness in her voice.

"I…I…just clothes." He could hardly get the words out in his fear. But why should a fifteen year old boy be so frightened of an eleven year old girl?

"My mom will be back soon with some underwear for you."

"Thank you."

Sara looked out the window behind Gil's head, an awkward silence slowly growing between the two. Gil was honestly contemplating suicide if it was always going to be so awkward with his new and extremely candid owner. "Will you tell me about your history?"

"You could read the chart." He was squirming under her gaze and pulled the sheet over himself. He wasn't sure why, but for some reason, he felt like a pervert for being naked around her. It wasn't really as though he had much of a choice.

"I don't want to. It's too…impersonal."

"Ok…well, um…when I was five, my father's business went under, so he sold me and my mother for money. The first lady who bought us was really nice. She let us live basically the same way we had until I was six. She couldn't set us free – stipulation of the contract. Then she died and we were given to some…very evil men. We've been together until now, and my mom educated me while we weren't being…uh…used."

"Used?"

"We were both sex trade slaves."

Even in Sara's young age, the hateful term wasn't lost on her. The most expensive and most abused slaves were sex trade, used only for their bodies. She could see why someone would want this boy just for his body. His smooth skin and agile body made him as beautiful as any male could be. She knew if he was treated well, muscles would grow where they should be. She cringed.

"You were only five?"

"I honestly think it was harder on my mom than me." He looked at his palms, willing himself not to cry. He didn't want to consider where his mother might be at the moment. "They mostly made her…watch…" Swallowing thickly, he looked up at Sara, his eyes glazed over with contained tears.

"How long were you at the auction house?"

"A month. When I turned fifteen, they were allowed to sell me on my own."

Sara studied him for a moment, so old for her age, before taking a breath as if she was going to speak. Then she closed her mouth for another second. "Gil…my parents won't do that to you."

"Oh. I didn't thi-"

A hand stopped him, "It's okay, you're not in trouble, I'm just telling you."

"Alright."

"Are you hungry?" Much to his relief, she changed the subject.

"Yes."

"Let's go get something to eat." After leading him down to the kitchen, Sara situated herself on a stool at the breakfast bar. "You can look around. You'll have to get used to where stuff is."

The cabinets were made of a beautiful, varnished cherry wood, and Gil ran his fingers over them before browsing the contents. "You have a lot of money," the thought escaped his mouth before he could clamp his lips shut.

"Yes. We do."

The box of cereal he picked was a pale yellow color, and after setting it down, he began the dubious search for a bowl and spoon. He felt oddly exposed in front of Sara, despite the fact that he had spent so much of his life without clothing. "Do you want some cereal, too?" he asked once he discovered the dishes' hiding place.

"I'm not hungry." Sara watched as he poured the flakes into a stone ware bowl. She was so enraptured by his actions, watching the tensing and shifting of his few muscles, that he startled her when he asked a question.

"Is it that obvious?" Again, the words seemed to tumble out of his mouth before he could prevent their escape. As though they were never meant for human ears.

"Is _what _that obvious?"

"The way that I feel." He looked at the chair, not wanting to ruin the cushion. "Could I get a towel?"

"Yeah, I'll show…" Sara began to rise from the stool before turning to him, her eyelids only half open, "No, it's not that obvious."

Gil had taken a shower and was sitting in Sara's room in a pair of new boxers, white pinstriped with green. The girl was lounging on her large bed, reading a book about fantasies, occasionally taking a break to glance at Gil. He was stoic, staring at her wall, and she couldn't help but think that he must have been a hard one to break.


	2. Snuggled

Title: Snuggled  
Rating: T  
A/N: Wow! I logged onto my e-mail and had so many story-alerts for this! I'm glad you're all so intrigued, so here's my little gift to you (A/N: This scenario might seem a little implausible, seeing as Gil was so terribly sexually mistreated as a child. However, after much contemplation, I felt it showed the love (platonic, even) for Sara, the first person he cared about in so long). The next chapter should be up sooner than this one, I was just super busy and couldn't get around to typing it up! Forgive me.

* * *

_After living with the Sidles for a few years, Gil became quite accustomed to their way of life. He woke early to make breakfast for Sara before she went to school. While she was gone, he spent most of his time reading in the family library. He wasn't allowed to leave. He couldn't read the newspaper or use the phone. Gil missed his mother and hoped she was okay._

_Sara would come home after school and they would do her homework together. She would get close to him, touching his shoulder or arm. And even though it was wrong and dirty, and he thought he was just like the perverts who had raped him, he found himself being aroused by her touch. She had always treated him better than anyone else, she was maturing fast and maybe it was just his hormonal, teenage body reacting to her._

"Goodnight, Gil," Sara stood in the doorway, a t-shirt hanging from her form.

"G'night, Sara. I'll see you in the morning." Gil, usually an insomniac, rolled over and promptly fell asleep. Sara, on the other hand, could not. She had just glanced at her clock when she heard a noise come from the room next to her. Although it sounded slightly painful, she didn't think anyone would be hurting Gil. Still, when the noise continued, she was concerned. She got up, and walked, in the dark, out of her room, and nest door to his. When she opened the door, about to speak, she heard her name.

"Oh, God, Sara."

It was soft, but it was passionate. There were beads of sweat on Gil's face, his hands clutched the mattress. Her hand flew to her mouth, but she couldn't pull herself away. She had learned all about these in school, but she never knew they could be so…beautiful.

"Sara…please…" The moan was quiet, but sweet as it escaped over his slightly parted lips. His body stiffened and he let out a guttural moan before she realized the final act had been completed. Sara backed out of the room before closing the door and tip toeing back to bed, the evasive sleep able to claim her at last.

-----------------

"What the Hell!?"

Sara knew that voice. That was her mother's shrill scream. She flew out of bed and ripped open her door. Her mother was standing, newspaper in hand, in Gil's doorway. The boy was in his bed, holding his sheets up to his chin, a large stain covering the center. Her mother turned to her, eyes wide. "What happened last night?"

"Nothing, Mommy," the 14-year-old girl innocently replied.

"_That _is not nothing!" the older woman pointed at the incriminating stain. "Did he rape you? Are you protecting him?" She turned to Gil and walked over to him, only to roll up her newspaper and begin beating him over the head. "Did you defile her, you beast?"

Gil just cowered under her blows as Sara tried to protest. "Mom! Mommy! He didn't touch me! He was just dreaming!"

Gil looked up when Sara's mother froze. A blush slowly painted across his cheeks as it dawned on him that Sara had overheard him last night.

"What?" her mother's voice cracked.

"He was…He was just dreaming. I heard a noise so I came to check on him. Nothing happened."

"Oh," the woman looked slightly crestfallen, however, she recovered quickly. "Well then, get up and wash away the mess. As punishment for soiling my sheets, no shower and no clothing today."

Finally, Gil's voice worked. "But I… I couldn't help it." This was his only retort. The poor young man didn't know what was going on. It is a sad thing to be so exposed to something and know so little about it.

"Mommy, we learned about this in school; if boys don't…um…release the pressure themselves, this happens."

"I'm not stupid, Sara," her mother snapped before turning and leaving the room. "I'll see you downstairs in five minutes, Gil."

He could have cried – his face hot with shame. How could this have happened? Sara was still at the doorway in her nightshirt. "You can wash up in my bathroom," she tried to make peace.

"What did you see?" he asked quietly, looking at his lap.

"Um…you were sweating."

"Oh." He was silent, "Did you see…?"

Sara could not stay silent for long, and the words burst out of her mouth in a gush of burning appologies. "Gil, I'm so sorry. I saw the whole thing. But I opened the door and you were just so…"

"Disgusting?" he supplied.

"No. Amazingly handsome. I couldn't take my eyes off of you."

He raised his head, and for the first time in a long time, she saw tears in his eyes. "Please don't tell anyone it was about you." She could see how painful it was for him to even mention it.

"Of course not."

Gil stood and pulled of his boxers slowly, avoiding Sara's gaze, bundling them in his sheets. "I'd better go."

"I'll ask Daddy if he'll make Mommy let you wear something."

Gil nodded and walked out of the door, but Sara grabbed his arm before he could go much further. "I have dreams like that about you, too."

He said nothing, but walked away silently and left her standing in the door. His stomach itched, but the bundle in his arms kept him from scratching. Sara's mother sat at the counter and stared at Gil as he walked by her, heading to the laundry room. He dropped the sheets into the machine, and after bending over to fill the soap container, he was startled to find Mrs. Sidle in the door, her hands over her chest.

"I know she's just protecting you. You slaves are all the same. You just want to stick your dick in any hole that's tight."

"I swear, I didn't do anything to her…I…I love Sara like a sister." The lie cut at his throat.

Sara's mom reached out and slapped him across the face. "How dare you equate yourself with my daughter!?" The red mark on his face stung as he thought about a beetle he had seen the other day, crawling, its small legs bending under the burden of its weight.

"Mom?! Mommy?" Sara's voice flowed through the house for a moment before her mother responded.

"In the laundry room, honey!"

Gil's angel walked in holding a pair of boxers. "Daddy said that Gil didn't break any rules, so it's not fair to punish him for it."

He took the underwear from Sara. "Thanks." The grain of the wooden stairs registered mildly with him as he trekked up them to his small bathroom. The water was hot and burned his skin, rinsing away his shame.

-----------

"How was school today, Sara?" he asked as he picked her clothes up off the floor.

"It was fine," she called from her closet, poking her head out, only to raise an eyebrow before going back in. "Jimmy Paeterson asked me to go to the spring fling with him. I think I will."

"Oh, ok." She threw a bra at him and he caught it nervously. "This is new." He held up the white undergarment as she walked out of the closet in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt.

"Yeah, Mommy bought it for me. I hate it so much. You imagine wearing one all day."

He couldn't, didn't want to think about the fabric coming in contact with her soft, pale skin, slowly budding breasts, so he merely nodded before dropping the dirty clothing in a basket.

"Let's start on your homework."

Sara smiled and moved to get out her worksheets. She placed them on the desk and turned to Gil, who had positioned himself cross legged on the floor. "What do you want to do first? Science, or French?"

He grinned, because she already knew the answer. "Science." But her stopped her before she could turn back, grabbing her wrist. "Sara," he looked nervous, petrified, "Can you please tell me what happened the other night?"

"What?" Confusion assaulted Sara as she wracked her brain for what he might be thinking about.

"Why did it happen? I wasn't…you know…" he blushed and appeared quite interested in the carpet.

As recognition flashed across her face, Sara immediately sobered and attempted to recall anything and everything they had taught her in sex education. "It's called masturbation, Gil, when you touch yourself…down…there. It's okay to do it."

He blanched but she proceeded onwards.

"But if boys don't..." _Say the word Sara…it's just a word, _"masturbate, they have these things called wet dreams. It's like their body does it for them. You couldn't help it because you didn't know."

Gil sighed heavily and put his head in his hands, a common way for him to shelter himself from the world. However, the red on his neck was still quite visible. "Do you want to go out to the garden?" She knew that whenever her friend was awkward, a trip into nature would make him feel much better.

"I'd like that."

With no further a due, she shoved her worksheets back into her bag and they headed out the garden: a small sanctuary behind the house, full of blossoming plants and sweet smells. The sound of buzzing bees and butterflies constantly met the ear, silence otherwise. As soon as they were on the grass, Gil was on his hands and knees searching for bugs, just like a toddler. Sara grinned and settled against the single tree in the center; a tall and thick oak, working on her French.

After a few moments, he came over to her with a small grasshopper. "Aren't they amazing?"

"Sure." There was an amicable silence between them for sometime until Sara turned to Gil. "Tomorrow's your birthday, right?"

"Yes," he replied, still currently in awe of his catch, "I'll be 19."

"In two more years, you'll be free." Her French lay forgotten on the earth between them.

"I know."

"What will you do?" _Curiosity killed the cat. _Sara wasn't sure if she wanted to know. Outside of the confined world her parents had made for Gil, he might be a _very_ different person, and she loved him just like he was.

"I'm going to find my mom."

_Well, if he's honest, he's just the same_."What if you can't find her?"

He looked taken aback as if the question had never even crossed his mind. "I will keep looking for her until I die."

"Is she free in two years as well?"

"No," he was heart broken, "The contract stated that if she was with me when I turned 21, she was free. If we were separated, she was enslaved for another 4 years."

"That's hardly fair!"

"I know. But I'm going to find her, and whatever it takes, whatever the cost, I'll buy her, and we'll be free together."

Sara sat in thought for a while, letting Gil toy with his grasshopper. "I'm going to miss you." _There. _She had finally said it.

Questioningly, he looked up at her, arching an eyebrow. "I'm going to come back for you Sara."

"Really?"

"Yes. And when you are 18 and I am 22…" his voice trailed off and he let the grasshopper go.

"What Gil? What about when you're 22?"

"I will…I will…ask you to marry me," he squinted his eyes, ready for a slap. However, he did not receive one.

"And I will say yes."

-------------

His screams just weren't loud enough to drown out the pain. Oh God, Jesus! It was as if monsters were tearing his flesh off with rotten, sharp, jagged teeth. Where was his skin? Where was his skin?!

"Wake up!! Gil, wake up!" Sara was on his bed, kneeling next to him. His eyes opened slightly and she ran a hand over his sweating face. "You were having a night mare." Her silk pajamas felt just like it did when his mom hugged him, when he was four and had terrible dreams. Pushing her hand through his hair, she soothed him enough so he could realize his hands were balled into fists, protecting his chest. Slowly, he lowered them.

"You're safe now," she reassured him, petting his damp hair softly. "I'm here."

He wrapped his hand around her arm and breathed out quietly. Gil wasn't sure why he had been given such a gift four years ago when the little 11 year old girl had picked him out, but he wasn't complaining to anyone. "Thank you, Sara."

"You're welcome."

They sat in a pregnant silence for sometime before Sara pulled her arm out of his grip. "I should go."

"Do you have to?" He sounded like a small child as he grabbed at the hem of her top.

"I guess not," she laid down on the mattress stiffly before he wrapped his arms around her middle, searching for some comfort somewhere.

"I hope I'm not being to bold." His voice was husky and made Sara's insides writhe with heat. They never said anything about this in health class.

"No," she let her fingers scurry over his forearms and butted up against him, closing her eyes. His breath moved her hair over her ears and she felt it even out slowly. His grip relaxed and Sara lost all track of thought and what was happening before slipping into the void of sleep. She didn't get through the entire night though. Around 2:00 AM (by her watch), her eyes fluttered open. One of Gil's hands had maneuvered its way under her top while they slept. It was warm and calloused and felt odd against her soft stomach. But in a good way. His other hand still held onto her middle. She smiled for a moment before falling back to sleep, the darkness of the morning claiming her.

Gil was used, by now, to getting up early. He left Sara on his bed, covering her with the sheet and went to take a shower. Today, he turned 19. He was one year closer to freedom – to his mother. The water was cold and the soap dried out his skin, but he was still grinning as the blunt razor cut away his stubble. He left the bathroom and walked slowly on the rugs in the hallway, delighting in the feeling of each fiber between his toes.

Sara's hair was going every which way and she smiled at him blearily when he came in. "Happy birthday."

"Thank you," he replied, sitting down next to her. "And thank you for last night, too." He took her petite hand in his. _Such a good friend_.

"You're welcome, I didn't do much, though."

"You did more than enough."

"Mommy can't know."

"I'm aware."

Sara slipped her hand out of Gil's and left him to think while she got ready for school. His mind was racing. If Mrs. Sidle found out about last night, she would probably murder him in the most violent manner possible in order to make him fit in a shoebox. During the night, he had awoken to find Sara's skin burning his fingers, which had found their way under her shirt. He left his hand there, he told himself, only so he wouldn't disturb her sleep.

Recently, Gil had been thinking about his enslavement a lot more, with his freedom calling out to him, and it left him with some unexpectedly horrific nightmares. Apparently, he had screamed last night. Rubbing the base of his neck in a pitiful attempt to keep away the impending migraine, he headed downstairs to make breakfast.


	3. This Ought to Make You Feel Better

Title: This Ought to Make You Feel Better  
Rating: PG  
Disclaimer: I make no claim to own any of the characters within, except for Emerald. No profit of any kind is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.  
A/N: I made reference to _Everything is Illuminated_ in this chapter. Cookies go to anyone who can find it!  
A/N2: Gosh, I'm sorry it's taken so long to get this chapter up, but it changed a lot over the last few days. I hope you enjoy it, and I promise the new one should be up within two or three days. I just got out of surgery, so things took a bit longer than usual.

* * *

"I'll see you later today, Gil!"

"Have a good day, Sara." He stood in the foyer, waving to her as she left. Her driver had her school bag in hand and was ushering her into the vehicle before she turned around.

"I almost forgot to tell you, I'm bringing a friend home today. Emerald Tathenson." She waved goodbye quickly and was gone with a smile. The car pulled out and the doorman shut the door with a loud bang, making Gil flinch. He wrung his hands together.

Silence filled the empty house, making it all too easy for Gil to feel his heart beating in his throat. A friend? A female friend? Gil had lived in this small world for the last 4 years, and while Sara had visited friend throughout the years, she had never brought one home. And Gil had never left the house. Since leaving the auction house, two females had entered his life: Sara and Sara's mom.

He stood in the foyer until the dryer buzzed, at which point he was snapped back to reality and went to fold the clothed. The warm cloth caught on his dry skin as he folded and stacked Sara's clothing. He put the piles of garments in a basket and carried them upstairs. He breathed in the fresh smell, and, not paying attention to where his feet were, he tripped and fell. His shin smashed on a step, the basket went flying, his chin and nose crashed into the wood and he grasped at the step with shaking hands. He felt the blood drip out of his mouth and nose as he struggled to rise, trying not get blood anywhere.

Gil didn't see the red stain on Sara's white pants as he ran into his bathroom. His face was a mass. He spit and snorted, trying rid himself of the sticky liquid. The blood pooled in the basin before he turned on the water, rinsing it away. A bruise was forming on his chin already and his shin was throbbing. Wrapping his fingers around the sink, he let out a sigh and willed the wound to stop bleeding. After about three minutes, they did.

The clothes were waiting on the stairs where he had left them. It was with a certain sense of fear that he picked up the tainted article of clothing an refolded it. The garment was tucked under his mattress so he wouldn't be punished by Sara's mother. He could tell Sara tonight before they went to bed. Quickly, he put the rest of her clothes away before making her bed. A plethora of stuffed animals on the bed made this job a difficult one, but Gil found guilty pleasure in seeing toys full of so much love. The library was his next destination.

Books were usually a great escape for Gil, but on this day, his head was swimming. He couldn't focus on the page in front of him, and eventually conceded to circumstance, closing the volume and putting it back on the shelf. Over an hour had passed since he had had his accident and he was still quite shaken. He wasn't sure what Mrs. Sidle would say when she got home. Thought lured him into exhaustion, and exhaustion lured him into sleep.

When he woke, a gasp of air was pulled in a snap over his lips. Mr. Sidle had shaken him awake. "Sara and her friend will be here soon. You ought to make them something to eat, and then you can go to your room."

Gil rubbed his forehead and felt a throbbing pain spread over his face, before nodding in thanks to Mr. Sidle. A request for tuna sandwiches had been made earlier, so he chopped the celery, careful to pay attention to where the blade was (he wanted to avoid any further injury on that day), and then added it to a can of tuna and a heaping tablespoon of mayonnaise. After spreading the mixture over some bread, he cut off the crust, ate it himself, and poured two glasses of lemonade. He put them on the breakfast bar and left a note:

_Sara,_

_In my room, Let me know if you need me._

_Gil_

And he went to his room, perching on his orange crate to look out the window. A bird sat on the ledge devouring a cricket. Sitting back on his haunches, Gil contemplated the circle of life and closed his eye._ A nap could be in order_, he thought. He was a little chilly and so opened the window to let in a bit of a breeze before crawling into bed. As he was dozing off, he heard Sara's laugh float in through the open glass.

The sun was just setting outside when he opened his eyes and he could hear crickets warming up. Sara and her friend were making a lot of noise in her room, laughing at something. Not sure of what time it was, Gil decided he could just open his door and check the clock in the hall. It didn't creak when it opened, but Sara must have seen his foot as he poked his head out.

"Gil?"

He turned his head quickly, "Yes?"

"Come here."

"I…I…Okay." Gil had often expressed to Sara wished not to do what she wanted him to. Although she always backed off, he didn't want to embarrass her in front of her friend by disobeying her. He walked into her room, still blinking sleep from his eyes.

"Oh my God! Gil, are you okay?" Sara stood quickly and ran towards him, her slender hands flying to the purple on his face. She touched it gently, and he didn't flinch at her contact. Rubbing her thumb over the cut, she looked into his eyes, "What happened?"

"I fell…on the stairs…I was daydreaming."

"You've got to stop that." She smiled sadly at him before turning to Emerald. "Emerald, this is Gil. He's a daydreamer and often gets hurt because of it."

"Hi, Gil. I've heard a lot about you. I thought you were one of Sara's friends…not a slave."

Sara bristled at the word and Gil cringed behind her. It had been a long time since he had been called a slave. He wasn't sure if he wanted to go back to the term which gave him no identity.

"That's because he's not my slave." Sara retorted, "He's my best friend."

"I thought _I _was your best friend?"

"You are my best friend. At school. But Gil is on the outside of things. He doesn't judge me. You know?"

"He doesn't judge because he can't."

Gil thought it was best to interrupt this conversation before it went any further. "What do you want for dinner?"

"What?" Sara was confused. She had been prepared for a fight, but her voice softened. "Oh, we already ate. Pizza. I left some in the fridge for you."

"Thank you. Can I eat outside please?" Emerald blinked at him.

Sara sighed, "Gil, it's getting dark."

"I'll stay in the garden."

"Let Father know you're going out." Last time Gil had gone outside alone, the results had not been pleasant.

_He chose to eat in the courtyard because the natural lighting was better out front and he was going to be out past dark. He knew it. After he had finished his dinner, be began a rigid for an insect. Being so focused on the task at hand, he railed to notice when the door slammed open. He was unaware of Sara's Father's presence until he was being pulled up by the curls on the top of his head._

"_How dare you? After all we've done for you?!" A slap across the face, a punch in the gut and he doubled over._

"_What did I do?"_

_Mr. Sidle yanked him up by his curls again, "What did you do? What _did _you do? I cannot believe you have the audacity to ask me that question right now. Only slaves in bad homes try to escape; do you think this is a bad home, 4052?"_

_Gil's body stiffened. He had not been called by his number since Sara had learned his name and insisted everyone refer to him only by that. It gave him the first sense of a true identity in 10 years and in the last few seconds, Mr. Sidle had stripped all of that away._

"_I don't think this is a bad home. I wasn't trying to escape."_

"_Like Hell you weren't. What were you doing out here if you weren't trying to be free?"_

"_I was just eating dinner, I swear. Sara said I could eat outside tonight since she wouldn't be home."_

"_Oh, I'm sure. Get your little ass back inside where I can keep an eye on you."_

"_Yes sir."_

"Of course," he said from the doorway before turning to leave.

"Gil?" Emerald's voice sounded sweeter than just seconds before.

"Yes?"

"You should eat in here."

"Oh…Um…I…" _really don't want to._

"It okay, Gil. You can eat in here, or outside. It's your choice, you know that." Sara smiled at him, calming his frayed nerves.

"I'll go tell your dad then," he responded, making his choice quite clear.

"Oh, but I wanted to talk to him some." Emerald's lips popped out in a pout.

"Emerald, I never make Gil do anything he doesn't want to do."

Gil shrugged from the doorway, attempting to seem nonchalant. "It's alright, I'll just go get my dinner."

When Gil went back into Sara's room, both girls were still on the floor and he situated himself awkwardly between them, putting the cheese pizza to his lips and taking a bite. His head was still throbbing from hitting it earlier. "Sara?"

She looked up from her nails, which she was painting a pale pink. "Yes?"

"Can I have some aspirin for my head?"

"Yep. Just go tell daddy I said it was ok."

Slaves weren't usually allowed access to drugs because too many of them had tried to commit suicide. The Sidles kept all of their medication locked in a cabinet and Mr. Sidle kept the key on his person always. Gil had never even thought of stealing the medicine, and usually he didn't ask for it, but the aching feeling just wouldn't go away. He rose from his seat and went down to the den, where he was sure Mr. Sidle would be.

Indeed, he was. Sitting at his desk, combing through some paper work. "Excuse me, sir?"

He looked up from his desk to see Gil standing in the door, wringing his hands and looking dismayed.

"What can I do for you?" He took off his glasses and set them down on the wooden surface before standing up and walking around the desk so there was nothing between the two of them.

"My head…um…really hurts and Sara said you would let me have some aspirin for it."

"I don't see why not. Come on, you can get glass of water while I get you something. I think some Ibuprofen would be better for you." He pulled a small golden key out of his pocket and led the way out of the room. Gil followed him the downstairs bathroom and watched him unlock the bottom cabinet and pull out a bottle of pills. He unscrewed the top and took out three of the pills, handing them to Gil. "Go on."

Gil threw them into his mouth and swallowed the pills dry before leaving the room. "Gil?"

"Yes sir?" He spun around quickly, scared Mr. Sidle may have changed his mind and would make him vomit the pills back up.

"You're going to be leaving soon."

"I'm sorry?"

"I know I'm just throwing it at you. But," he sat down on the edge of the tub and patted the toilet seat (the lid was down, he obviously wanted Gil to have a seat), "Sara's mom and I have both seen how close you two are growing, and the other day the gardener overheard a conversation the two of you were having."

"What?" He tried not to let his voice crack.

"You told Sara when she was 18 you'd marry her. We can't have that happening, can we?"

"I…I don't know…"

"Yes you do. You know here status in society is much higher than your and even after you're free, people will still recognize you as a slave. We couldn't have our daughter married to someone like that."

"No…I…"

"So, in a week, we'll be sending you back to the auction house."

"No…please don't. I won't marry her. I won't even come back after I leave. Please don't make me go. Please, just let me stay. I'll never come back, I promise."

"I saw her in your room one night. She's too young for you."

"I had a nightmare, that was all. She was just comforting me."

"Of course she was – but it could escalate."

"It won't. Please don't make me go." Gil finally collapsed onto the toilet, his head in his hands.

"I'm sorry, this is just the way it has to happen." Mr. Sidle patted his back lightly before standing up and leaving the bathroom.

Gil closed his eyes tightly and squeezed his body together, trying not to let any noise escape his mouth. He didn't want to go back to the auction house, especially after having been here. He didn't want to tell Sara, not when she had a friend over, but she would wonder why he was in such a mood. He left the bathroom, flicking the light off and collapsed on the floor.


	4. And This is What You Found?

Title: And This is What You Found?  
Rating: PG  
Disclaimer: Not mine, etc. (You know, you think for someone who plays with words for a living, I would be able to come up with something more creative. But no...)  
A/N: Well, a promise is a promise, and I've kept mine. Here's the next chapter. I don't know how long you'll have to wait for the next, I hope not too long, because I'm really enjoying writing this. Not that I'm favoring one story over another...

* * *

When he woke up, Gil was lying on a table, his underwear gone, his hands and feet strapped down. He opened his eyes and a light was shining on his stomach. A face swam into his vision, a man with a doctor's mask covering his mouth and nose. A hand prodded at Gil's arm and he glanced over to see an IV stuck under his skin. "Where am I?" His words were thick and his mouth was dry.

"Sir, can you tell us your name?"

"Gil Grissom."

"And your age?"

"I'm 19. Where am I?"

"A young lady found you in an alley way."

"What?"

"She saved your life, sir."

"In an alley way?"

"Yes sir. You didn't have any clothing or identification of any sort. Except for the number on your neck, however we haven't been able to access your information on the SD yet today. It seems to be down. What family were you with before today?"

"The Sidles. 22 North Twide St."

"Do you know their phone number?"

"No."

"Ok. Well, we'll try to find it. Until then, Nurse Suzy here, will get you a hospital gown and a room of your own."

"Thank you."

A woman who looked like she was just a year or two older than Gil walked over and smiled at him as though he were a child. Undoing the straps holding him down, she was gentle and her touch, soft. She picked up a folded garment from a table and helped him slip it over his arms before tying the back for him. "Can you stand?" she asked.

"I think so." She took his hand and helped him get up. He grabbed the rolling IV pole and she walked him down the hallway. "Suzy?"

"Yes." She talked to him as she settled him onto the bed and tucked the sheets around him.

"Do you know I'm a slave?"

"Yes."

"Do you think less of me because of it?"

"I try not to make assumptions about people. I know some people are sold into slavery for no reason at all. I don't think less of you at all, Gil."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. The washroom's just over to your right, and you can push that call button if you need me."

"Thank you."

"We'll let you know when we find something out about your family."

He sat in the bed for a moment, trying to remember anything he could. But his last thought was turning out the light in the washroom. He knew that he had wanted to go and talk to Sara. He rubbed the back of his head and felt a small bump , probably forming in to a larger lump, if his luck as of late could be anything to judge by.

He didn't know how far he was from home, or even what hospital he was in. He shifted uncomfortably in the itchy fabric and tugged at the hospital blanket. As far as he could tell, he hadn't been raped – however, he wouldn't have expected that from any of the Sidles. They may have been bigots, but Sara's parents weren't perverts, they were respectable people with judgmental opinions.

The TV across from him was asking him to turn it on, to catch up on something current. His first glimpse of the real world in a long time. But he just couldn't bring himself to do it, and so Gil sat in silence for almost an hour, before Suzy came back in.

She had a glass of water in her hand, and set it down on his bedside table. "Well, we got a hold of your family, and they'll be coming in soon. They were quite worried about you."

"Really?"

"The little girl anyways."

"She's not little."

"Oh. Sorry. She sounded pretty young."

"She's almost 16."

Suzy smiled at him before sitting on the edge of the bed. Gil scooted away from her.

"When I was younger, I had a slave who was 6 years older than me. I thought I was in love. My father sent him back to the auction house. Him and I are married now."

Gil frowned at her before she patted his hand. "Good luck." And then she got up and left the room – left him to his thoughts.

Sara came running in and wrapped her arms around his neck. He patted her small shoulder with one hand and stared at Mr. Sidle who just grinned sheepishly from the foot of the bed. "Can you blame a man for trying?"

When Gil shook his head, unsure of what his reaction should be, Sara turned to look at her father. "You did this?"

"Sara, this isn't how I wanted you to find out…"

"Find out what?" Her arms still gripped tightly around Gil's neck, and as she turned her body, it was getting more and more difficult to breathe. But his burning skin kept Gil from removing the pressure.

"Gil has to go back to the auction house."

"What?!" She put her arms stiffly at her side, and Gil instantly missed the contact.

"The gardener overheard a recent conversation earlier. And your mother _saw _you in his _bed_."

"I will not let you send him back to that vile place."

"You can't stop this Sara."

"I won't let you!" She climbed onto the bed, narrowly missing Gil's kneecaps as she straddled his legs, a vain attempt to keep him from her father. Gil's hands instantly went to her hips to keep her from falling, but he pulled them away when Mr. Sidle's eyes traveled down to the place of contact. "You can't take him away from me! He's my best friend!" There were tears in her eyes, and her voice was getting higher and higher.

Mr. Sidle went over and closed the door so people couldn't stare any more. "Sara, get down. Now."

"Not until you say he can stay."

"He cannot stay! Look at how you are acting."

Sara reached down to feel for Gil's hand, his fingers automatically grasped hers. "I can't believe you'd do this to me. To him. Do you know what they did to him there, Dad? Do you?"

"Of course I do, Sara."

"Do you know that when he was just five years old, they _raped _him, and made his mother watch it?"

"Sara, how do you know that?"

"Best friends tell each other things. If you send him back there, they'll just do it more. They'll hurt him again."

Gil's fingers were shaking slightly in her grasp, but Sara didn't let go. "They'll rape him again." His face flushed and he shifted his legs, uncomfortable between the heat of this young girl's legs, under the hot stare of her father. He knew that this was the worst time to have an erection, but hopefully from Mr. Sidle's angle, he couldn't see. Why Sara had climbed on top of him, he didn't know.

"Sara, it's not really up to me. It's your mother's choice."

"Convince her to let him stay."

"Sara…"

"If you don't, I'll scream."

"You are 15 years old, do not do this. 15 year old girls do not throw temper tantrums."

"Well, I will, if you take my best friend away."

"Fine, I'll talk to your mother. Now, will you get down?"

"Do you promise me?"

"Yes, I promise. Get down, won't you?"

_No, please don't_.

"Ok. But he's coming home with us."

She started to climb down and swung her leg back over his stomach, narrowly missing his hard-on. His quick intake of breathe did not go unnoticed by Mr. Sidle. "Everything ok, Gil?"

"Yes sir."

"We brought you something to wear home. Then we'll go." Sara walked over to a chair and grabbed a pair of jeans and a shirt. She handed them to him before grasping her father's hand. "Let's go get a drink. I'm thirsty." _Maybe she didn't _narrowly_ miss the erection._

Gil sat up and watched them leave before slipping the pants on and zipping them up. He fumbled with the brass button – it had been a long time. The t-shirt he slipped on over his head with ease, before walking towards the door and opening it. Sara was right next to the room, smiling at him. "Daddy went to get us a soda. I'll wait here with you." She reached up and grabbed his hand. "I was scared I was going to lose you. I'm sorry I climbed on you like that."

"It's okay. Thank you for…sticking up for me like that."_Poor choice of words._

"You're welcome. That's just what any friend would do."

"I haven't had many friends."

"You've got me."

Gil nodded silently and watched Mr. Sidle walk up, 3 cans of Coca Cola in his large hands. Ha gave one to Sara and handed the other to Gil. "I've just got to sign you out and then we'll go." He started walking over to the nurse's station, but Gil's yelp stopped him.

"Wait! Could you please find out who found me? I want to thank her."

But as Mr. Sidle nodded, a young woman stood up in the waiting room and walked towards the group. Once she was about four yards away. "It was me, Gil, I found you."

She looked so familiar, but Gil just couldn't seem to place her. Perhaps she had been an owner's daughter? He desperately combed through his mind, so he could call her by her name also. "I'm sorry," he finally conceded defeat, "I don't think I know who you are."

"I wouldn't expect you to remember me," she smiled at him, "I was in your play group in the auction house, when we were 8?"

"Oh, um…"

"I try to block those days out too," she said, forgiving him for forgetting her. "My name's Genie. I was just walking down the street and I saw you. You've changed a lot, but your eyes are still exactly the same."

"Hi Genie. Thank you for finding me. The doctors said you saved my life."

"I don't know about that. But you're welcome. I couldn't leave an old friend just lying in an alley way."

Sara pushed her way forward, so she was in front of Gil. "Hi! My name's Sara." She held out a slim hand for Genie to take. Eventually, Genie did, but Gil could tell she was hesitant.

"You are…?"

"Gil's friend."

Genie's grip relaxed and her smile floated back on her face. "For a moment there, I thought you might be his owner. Any owner who could let their slave end up naked and alone in an alley ways is an awful one, I can tell you that much."

Sara frowned, but after Gil nudged her in the back, she let go of Genie's hand and smiled sadly, "I couldn't agree with you more."

-----------

"You brought him back?" Sara's mother's voice was loud and piercing, which was not unusual in the least.

"I didn't have much of a choice. What did you expect me to say, "Oh, we meant for that to happen, just let him die."?"

"Oh, that's just great. Satire."

Gil was huddled in his bathtub, the water steaming and filled to the top. He tried to pop his head under the surface to drown out the noise, but he could still hear the couple arguing. He sloshed the water around his knees and sighed, letting the liquid run through his fingers and splash off of itself.

"I'm not being satiric, but honestly, what would you have done?"

"I would have said I didn't know what they were talking about. Hell, they couldn't even access the Slave Database. Are you stupid, or what?!"

He plugged his index fingers in his ears and sunk into the water, watching the bubbles form above his head. When they had arrived home, Sara had gone straight to her room with all intentions of coming back out. However, her father had locked the door from the outside and Sara had screamed from behind it for an hour, pounding on the strong, varnished wood. Gil could tell her voice was thick with impending sobs, and he knelt outside her door, trying to get her to hush. But Mr. Sidle had picked him up, unceremoniously, and tossed him into his bathroom. With nothing to do but wait until he was let out, Gil had run a bath and stripped off the clothing that wasn't his, hopping into the inviting abyss.

Sara's yells had fallen silent just recently, and Gil had the feeling she had put herself to sleep with crying, he could sense her, just on the other side of the wall, her cheeks flush with emotion, her chest heaving lightly as she tried to regain her breath. However, he tried to keep his promise to Mr. Sidle and avoid thoughts of Sara whatsoever.

"They would have found out eventually. We'll just have to do this the orthodox way."

"You know Sara will never go for it."

"We don't have a choice."

"I'll go get the phone number, I guess." Sara's mom sounded discouraged as she trod past the bathroom door. She could be heard pulling a drawer open, rifling through some paper. Then her shadow flitted back across the crack at the bottom of the door, and Gil sunk beneath the water, not wanting to know what was going to happen next.

An hour later, two men came into the bathroom and picked him up by his arms, dragged him out of the water and into the hallway, where Sara's father was holding her, his arms wrapped around her middle.The men who were holding his arms weren't much stronger than Gil, but they compensated by kicking his feet out from under him and dragging his heels on the ground, tugging him over in front of Mr. Sidle.

"No!' Her voice was high, her face wet with fresh tears. She struggled to get her arms around her father, her fingers just brushing Gil's skin, reaching for him. He reached his hand towards her, their palms touched.

"Hush, Sara."

"Go on, say goodbye."

"Goodbye, Sara." Gil's voice was empty of emotion at the strained attempt not to cry. "I'll be back." The guard grabbed his hair and pulled his head back so his Adam's apple was sticking out, and it felt as though his neck had snapped.

"I'll be waiting."

Sara lunged for Gil as he was hauled down the stairs, her father's grip on her just tight enough to cause her consternation as her best friend was taken out the door and thrown into the back of a van.

He landed on something soft and realized there was a young man underneath of him. He pushed himself up and tried to get a good look at him in the light filtering in from the front of the van. The boy had a nice build, but his eyes looked hollow, and Gil guessed he was probably a sex slave, too. Gil wouldn't be surprised if they were headed to the same auction. "What's your name?"

The boy didn't answer him, but just looked on in shock before edging himself to the side of the van, pulling his knees up. Unwilling to egg an answer out of him, Gil looked around to get a hold of his surroundings. He wasn't sure if these people were actually with the Slave Network. The van didn't seem to be up to standards, and there was a mess in the corner that smelled worse than the one time he had to clean the septic tank out. The boy put his forearm over his eyes and let out a quiet whimper.

"It's ok, I won't hurt you. I'm a slave, too."

"It's not you I'm scared of," he whispered as their captors climbed into the front seat.


	5. Of Auctions, and of Bows

Title: Of Auctions, and of Bows  
Rating: PG-13  
A/N: I'm sorry about the wait guys, but I promise there will be something up tomorrow as well. I just need some sleep!

* * *

"You mean you're scared of them? But why?"

"Shh…!" his voice was strained, and even in the din, Gil could tell this kid was shaking. The van started and began pulling out of the driveway. Making his way toward the grate, which separated the front from the back, Gil just narrowly avoided a pile of sick and wrapped his fingers around the metal.

"Excuse me?"

No response.

"Excuse me? Are we going to the auction house?"

The man in the passenger see banged on the metal, hitting Gil's nose. Sneering, he watch Gil lean back on his heals and put his nose in his hands, attempting to staunch the blood flow. "That'll teach you to keep your God damned mouth shut. We'll take you where ever we damn well please."

"Benny, quit talkin' shit. He's just a kid."

Usually, such a comment would have been cause for indignation in Gil, however, considering the current circumstances, he was happy to be _just a kid. _

"Yeah, kid," the driver said, never taking his eyes off of the road. "We're takin' you to the auction house. Just got one more pick up to make before we get there."

His fears abated, Gil leaned back against the cool metal of the van and thought of Sara. She had been crying when they had taken him away, her eyes rimmed with red and her small face crumpled.

"Are you sure we're going to the auction house?" the other boy whispered from the floor.

"Yeah," Gill grinned, even thought the boy probably couldn't see him, "I saw badges." In all honesty, the people who ran the slave network didn't put much effort into their jobs. Anyone could be hired and often, ex-slaves could find a job there because no other place would hire them, not with that number tattooed on their neck. As a result of the lax rules, every so often, slaves would just go missing, as would their escort staff. But the driver obviously had a soft spot, so Gil thought it could be safe to assume they were going where they were supposed.

The van stopped shortly thereafter and the two men got out of the front. With their looming presence gone, the young man on the floor uncurled a bit. Gil could tell her was only thirteen or fourteen. "My name's Gil. What's yours?"

The boy looked up at him, eyes water slightly, and sniffed. Reaching out a shaking hand, he used his thumb to wipe the blood off of Gil's nose. Shocked, Gil grabbed his wrist, eliciting a small moan of fear from his fellow hostage. "What are you doing?" I'm not an owner, I'm just like you." He let go of the boys hand before sitting down and crossing his legs. "Now, you know my name. What's yours?"

"Nick," he said, massaging his wrist, refusing to make eye contact, "Nick Stokes."

"Well, it's nice to meet you."

An awkward silence pervaded the air for a moment of two longer, before the back door of the van was ripped open and a woman was thrown in. A multitude of scars covered her back, and a few angry, red welts danced over her abdomen. The light from outside burned Gil's eyes, and he had to shield them to see her at all. Running her hand through her bright red hair, the woman exposed the scars on the underside of her arm and made Gil cringe. The door closed and his vision faded while he adjusted again to the dark. The woman found her way to a clean(ish) side of the van and closed her eyes, leaning her head to one side.

----------

The auction house was just as Gil remembered it: sterile, with a metal door every 3.5 feet. He and Nick were shoved into one of the 3.5'x7' rooms, where they shared a small cot. Lying on his side, with Nick butted awkwardly against him, Gil could hear the odd commotion in the hallway, but paid more attention to Nick's constant struggle not to cry. Gil patted his shoulder.

"Did you have a good owner?"

Nick shook his head, his shoulders rose and feel as he sighed. "Nope."

"Then why are you so sad?"

"They just took me away from my mom."

So he was fifteen. It all made sense, now. Gil was about to open his mouth and say something comforting when the door opened. A large guard walked in and – with no pretense – grabbed Nick's hair, pulling him to a sitting position. He wrapped a gag and blindfold around his face, bound his hands and took down some measurements.

"#7321. Nick Stokes?"

Nick nodded.

"Fifteen years and 37 hours. Brown hair. 7.5 inches."

Nick nodded yes to every fact before Gil was pulled up in the same manner. The gag tasted sour, probably hadn't been washed between uses, and the blindfold left little to the imagination: he could still see silhouettes of everything. Gil figured it was more of a symbol of submission than anything else. His tender skin prickled as the cold ruler touched him.

"#4052. Gilbert Grissom?"

He nodded.

"20 years, 7 hours. Brown hair. 8 ¾ inches."

Again, he nodded at every statement, just wanting the humiliation to be done with. Honestly, who counted the days and hours since their last birthday, or measured their penis?

"Get up." Both of the boys stood shakily, having difficulty gaining their footing. They were led down a hallway with chilled tile floors, where the pressure from the walls pushed against Gil, regardless of his obscured vision. After being pushed through a door, Gil found himself on a freezing metal stage, the cold pushing its tentacles through the pads of his feet, all the way to his fingers. He could see the bidder's silhouettes, all of them ready to get out of their chairs and begin spending money.

"#3067. Female. Hannah Sharp. 27 years, 22 hours. Red head. Bid starting at $20,000"

It must have been that woman from the van.

"$20,000"

"$30,000"

"$60,000!"

"$100,000!"

And then silence. Gil listened as she was escorted down the stage, before feeling a hand grasp the back of his arm. He was pushed forward, his toes curling around the edge in order to stay upright.

"#4052. Male."

Gil heard a few laughs, and one man yelled out, "No question about that!" His face was hot, but the caller still continued.

"Gilbert Grissom. 20 years, 7 hours. Brown hair. 8 ¾ inches. Bid starting at $80,000."

"$80,000."

"$100,000."

"$120,000!"

"I'll meet that bid and any other."

The caller sighed, but led Gil down the stage, a hand on his neck. Gil stumbled down the four stairs before being led roughly to the back of the room.

"Thanks," the voice was a woman's, smooth and attractive, like mint chocolate. Soft fingers took Gil, he hear a check being written and ripped out, a pen clicked and was stuffed into a bag. Next, his blind was removed, and he was greeted by the sight of a beautiful woman looking at him, long black hair curling around her face. He tried to move his mouth to say hello, but his lips were encumbered by the gag.

"My name's Jennifer." It sounded as though she breathed the words. "I'm not actually your owner." Gil raised an eyebrow. "I'm buying you as a gift for my cousin. She's turning 16 this year, and I know she'd like you."

He shrugged his shoulders.

"I haven't seen her in a long time. But you seem like her type. Until her birthday, though, you'll stay with me. Guard!" She put up her hand to remover his gag and binds.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," she watched as the guard cut off the twine and undid the knot in the back of the gag. He smacked Gil on the ass and walked away, leaving Jennifer with a frown on her face. "Let's go."

The world had changed a lot since Gil had seen it two years ago. There were multiple slaves following their owners around, collars around their necks, no clothes. Before Gil had gone into Sara's care, slave nudity was illegal in public venues; a new law must have been passed. Jennifer opened the front door of the car for him, where he saw a pair of khakis and button down shirt folded on the seat.

"Are those for me?"

"Yes," she smiled at him as he reached out with nervous fingers, his hands brushing over the fabric. "While you are with me, for the next two days, you dress and act as if you are free. I think it's the least I can do before forcing you to be a gift."

The pants slipped on easily, the shirt was more difficult for his fumbling fingers. Jennifer, for her part, sat patiently waiting for Gil to finish and clamber into the passenger side.

"I'm not far from here," she smiled at him, "We're just leaving."

--------------

Jennifer's house was much smaller than Sara's, but no less eloquent. His bedroom was the guest room, a bed with pillows and a comforter. He laid down and was dozing off when a knock on the door roused him. "Yes?"

A woman in a maid's uniform opened the door. "Mr. Grissom?"

He blinked at her. His heart hammered in his chest. It was possible this was all a test, and if he acted like he was free, he would be punished. His manners urged him to respond anyhow.

"That's me."

"I was informed you might be hungry. Or like a bath."

"Oh….I….Yeah." _Manners…nonexistent._

"I've got some pancakes on, but can I get you anything else?" How about an omelet? Some coffee?"

"Oh…alright…"

"I'll have Suzy run you a bath."

"Ok."

The water was hot. The food was great. The clothes were comfortable. But still, he missed Sara. On Jennifer's cousin's birthday, he shaved, his hair was clipped, and a bow was tied around his hips – just big enough to cover the essential bits. He climbed into a box – quite obediently – and dimly registered himself be loaded into a car.

He felt the box lifting out of the car, warm hands pressed against cardboard against his stiff, crouching form. Carried for a while, then set down.

"Jennifer!"

_That voice…_

"Mom, Jennifer's here!"

_But it couldn't be._

"I've missed you, Sara."


	6. Shave and a Hair Cut! Yes, Sir!

Title: Shave and a Haire Cut! Yes, Sir!  
Rating: PG-13 to M (depending on what bugs you...)  
Disclaimer: And God said, let Kaitlin own Gilbert Grissom, and Sara Sidle, and Nicky Stokes. Oh wait...no he didn't. He gave them to someone a wee bit less perverse - but I don't know why - we've done wonders with them, in sexy-land, haven't we?  
A/N: TA-DA! Here it is. Not quite when I said it would be, but here, none the less, right? Please forgive me. :)

* * *

_Oh. God. It was._ He couldn't believe it. 

"Happy birthday. 16 doesn't happen everyday. Open your gift before it pops out!"

Sara's fingers slipped under the lid, letting in a sliver of light. Gil wanted to pop out, but was scared he might break her nose. A think layer of tissue paper covered his head, so even when the lid was all the way off, she couldn't see him.

"What is it?"

"Guess."

Gil stuck a finger through the tissue paper, wagging the digit.

"AHHH!" Sara ripped the paper away and reached in, pulling Gil up by his armpits. Tears were streaming down her face as she wrapped her arms around him, pressing her wet cheek to his chest. And he couldn't stop grinning like a fool, despite the bright orange ribbon on his groin and the frown that was growing on Mrs. Sidle's face.

"Oh my God. I thought I'd never see him again!" Sara let Gil go for a moment and turned to hug Jennifer. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"Again?" Jennifer asked, petting Sara's hair.

Mr. Sidle had difficulty resisting the smile on his face at seeing his daughter so happy. The replacement slave whom his assistant had picked out just a couple of days ago had not pleased Sara as Gil had. He turned to Jennifer. "Gil was Sara's slave before, unfortunately, he had to go back…he was abducted."

"Oh…well, I don't even have to ask if you like it, then. I can tell."

"Him."

"Him."

Sara gave Gil a hand climbing out of the box and kindly did not mention the bow. "We'll be right back." She led him up the stairs, not letting go of his hand. "I've got a new slave. He's just as quiet as you were when you got here. But I can tell he's different."

"How?"

"He just…different." She stopped and grinned at Gil before opening the door. Nick was curled into a ball on the mattress, the sheets crumpled around his chest. A pair of Gil's boxers fit loosely on his form. "Now get that damn bow off, and come downstairs for cake." She whispered loudly, so as not to wake Nick. As she turned to leave, Gil called out, "I'm so happy to be home."

Gil set the table, happy to feel he familiar stoneware under his finger tips. Sara blew out the candles, accepter her parents' gifts and wolfed down the cake. She was in such a hurry to get back up the stairs where she could talk to Gil about how the three days past had been Hell, and she couldn't believe he was back.

But her parents took their time talking to Jennifer about everything they had missed out on, and because of Nick's depression Gil had a lot of dished to wash – which was okay with him as long as he could hear Sara's voice and stand in her kitchen. As long as he was back with Sara, he would happily wear that damned bow until he was free.

_But you can't set a slave free before their time._

By midnight, they were back upstairs, both of them sitting cross-egged across from each other on the now yellow bed. "I missed you," Sara reached over to touch his face, her feather light fingers leaving a ghost of a trail behind as they danced over his flushed cheeks, burning his skin so it seared red hot.

"I was barely…I really missed you, too," he said honestly, surprisingly interested in his thumbs. He looked up at her, grimacing. "Sara, when I was in that van, there was a woman…"

"Oh!" She pulled her hand back – as if now she was the on being burnt by someone's skin.

"No. No, it's not like that! It's just…She had been whipped, and she looked like she had bruises. And I've been in her position; I _know _what that's like. I just want you to know that I know I'm really, extremely lucky to have you as an owner." He looked up at her, squishing the pads of his thumbs together. It took him a moment to notice the tears welling up in his eyes, and even longer to lean over and wrap his arms around her. She was so small and frail and needed protection; it was good he was back in time to save her. Running his fingers over her spine, he heard her whisper rush over his bare shoulder.

"I don't know what I'd do without you."

----------

Even thought the bed felt a lot smaller with Nick in it, it was still much larger than the cot they had briefly shared at the auction house. Nick woke in the idle of the first night, short of breath and ready to cry, grasping at Gil's shoulders.

"What is it?"

He shook his head.

"It's okay. I've been through it, too…you can tell me."

He shook his head.

"I'll go first, then you."

Nick nodded and sniffed, willing Gil to continue.

_The small boy cowers behind his mother, peering between her legs at a madman holding a pair of handcuffs. He bites down on his fingers, tears running down his face. The man shoves his mother to the side and she hits her head, falling as blood gushes out of her temple. The man grabs the boy's ankles and pulls the struggling boy out of the corner._

_"No! NO! Let him GO!" his mother yelps from her spot, straining to rise._

_The boy is flipped over, his chin smacking the floor and his hand cuffed behind his back. His owner cuffs his mom to a pipe before taking off his pants and grasping the boy's small waist. He enters the boy roughly, making his gasp out in pain._

_The blood doesn't stop for a while._

"Oh." Nick's voice shook. "How old were you?"

"7. My mom tried to kill him, and he sold us to an owner who was much wors. How old were you when you were sold?"

"14."

"You're pretty new to this then."

"Yes. Mr. Sidle is just my second owner. I think I like him a lot better than the first, but I worry about my mom."

"I do, too," consoled Gil, "and it's okay."

"My last owner didn't…do that…though."

"He didn't rape you?"

Nick hoped Gil couldn't see him blush. "No, he just…touched me. The first time, my mom had been sleeping. She didn't know why I couldn't stop crying."

"Well," Gil tried to comfort Nick, running out of words. "I've lived with the Sidles for almost 5 years, and nothing of that sort has ever happened."

"I would never _expect _the Sidles to. But I'm just so worried about my mom."

Gil nodded and rolled over, his back to Nick. "Sometimes," he said, his voice suddenly very dark, "you just have to block those feeling out."

--------

The boys sat in the kitchen, listening to the party in the living room. Sara had begged her father to let them come to her party, but he had threatened to send Gil back if she didn't stop. Gil hoped she having fun and enjoying herself, but the spaghetti tasted weird, and he knew it wasn't the sauce when Nick prodded him.

"Did you hear that?"

"Sorry?" What was one supposed to hear over that blaring music?

"There it is again. It sounds like a scream."

Gil heard it the second time and threw down his fork, running towards the source. He could hear Sara's voice – why didn't anyone else? Edging his way thought clumps of people, Gil ignored the glares and grunts and he rammed past them, finding himself outside of closet. Sara was struggling on the floor under a boy, just on the other side of the door, trying to push him off.

"AHah…" She groaned and her voice cracked with the effort. Gil reached down and yanked the boy off of Sara by his shoulders, throwing him to the floor and trying to ignore the fact that this kid's fly was undone. He reached down to pick Sara up, but she pushed him off and jogged up the stairs. Gil turned to the boy and a punch hit him square in the jaw. He wanted to fight – really, he did – but laws kept him from it, and he knew he'd be sent back to the auction house and sold to the dregs of society. So he closed his eyes and ignored the taste of blood and the impaling feeling in his ribs, trying to curl into a ball.

"Hey, man," Nick's voice sounded like God's, right now, "What's going on?"

"You want a beating, too?"

"No," he said, offering a hand of assistance to Gil, "but I'd be happy to call Mr. Sidle. I bet he'd like to talk to you."

It was hard for Gil to walk, but he had had broken ribs before in worse conditions than this. The stairs were Hell to climb, but it was even worse when Nick tried to get him to lie down on their bed. "No. No. I need to talk to Sara."

"What you need to do is lie down, buddy." Clutching his ribs, he walked over to her room and opened the door. "Sara?"

"Yes Gil?" He could tell she wasn't really looking at him. A sigh whispered over his lips as he sat down on the edge of her bed.

"What was he doing to you?"

"What did it look like, Gil? Gosh, you're not stupid!"

"Was he…trying…to have…sex with you?" The words burned at his throat, hydrochloric acid burning its way up in a regurgitation of frothy, sickening meanings that bit at his flesh and made him want to swallow them back down.

Sara nodded, staring blankly at herself in the mirror. "I think so. He was undoing his pants right before you came." And then she turned around, to thank him for saving her and finally registered all of his ailments. "Oh my God! What happened to you?"

"Nothing," he replied, but winced as she climbed onto the bed and his ribs shifted.

"Did he beat you up?" she asked, pulling a tissue out of the box and dabbing at a cut on his lip.

"Just a bit."

"The day they took you away," she said, leaning back against her pillow, "I went and looked under your bed. But Mom had gotten there first."

"Oh…" Gil didn't want to know.

_But only bad boys break the rules._

"She asked me about my pants. I just told her I had gotten my period and had hidden them because I was embarrassed. You're lucky you bled on the crotch, otherwise my story wouldn't have held."

"Thanks," he said, running his hand over his aching ribs.

"But I couldn't account for the journal. Mom said you wrote a lot about me. She said you can't have another on now that you're back. But I missed you 20th birthday, so I got you this." She reached under her pillow and pull out another journal with a box of ball point pens. "You can keep it in here, she'll think it's mine if she finds it."

"I appreciate that."

"You're welcome." She closed her eyes and leaned her head back on the pillow. "I'm so tired."

"I would be, too, after all that mess. I'm sorry your party wasn't much fun, Sara." He rubbed his hand over her shin, her pink socked toes in his face. "I'll tell your dad to send everyone home." As he rose off of the bed, the weight shifted and Sara rolled toward the center of the mattress.

"No, don't go."

"Sara," he moaned, his hand on the doorknob, "This is what got me sent back to the auction house the first time around."

"Lock my door. Nick won't tell anyone. He thinks you're a God or something."\

Gil stood by the door, frowning at Sara as she shimmied out of her pants He swallowed and licked his lips. _No, don't think those thoughts._ Her shirt came off next, and soon her clothes were in a pile on the floor. "Sara. What are you doing?" He tried to ignore his throbbing hard-on; there was a time and place for these things – and this was not the time, it would never be the place. But her skin was so milky white and innocent, and in just two years, she would be his.

"Getting ready for bed. I told you I was tired."

"I…I should…" His voice vanished when she popped off her bra. _NO!NO!NO!_ "Sara, stop it, please."

"It's legal, if I make you."

"But I don't want to."

"Better you than him," se said matter-of-factly.

Stunned, Gil walked closer to the bed. "Is that what this is about?"

Sara sat up quickly, her hair mussed, her bare chest quivering. "So many girls at school have already lost their virginity. I've got the guy I love right here. Would you rather I lose it to someone like him," she pointed through the floor, referring to closet boy, "Or someone like you? Someone who loves me and cares about me and would be gentle?"

"They're too young," he said, opening a drawer by the bed and pulling out a nightgown, "and you are, too, Sara. You shouldn't lose your virginity to anyone yet. It's just two more years, now." He offered her the garment and she took it, pulling it over her head.

"You just think I'm ugly, don't you?" Her voice cracked, "You would have sex with a _pretty _16 year ol."

"Sara," he reached over and smoothed down her hair, "you are beautiful. But you're also my best friend. You're the first person I haven't _had _to have sex with. When the time is right, I'll get the joy of making love to you." He leaned over and pressed light kiss on her lips. "Goodnight, Sara."


	7. Maybe, Maybe Not

Title: Maybe. Maybe Not.  
Rating: PG-13  
Disclaimer: Oh, you know. Don't sue me, I won't act like I own these folks or take any money for anything I do with them. ;)  
A/N: I know, I'm cruel. You'll forgive me eventually - I hope...

* * *

"Ow…Mom, what are you doing? Ow!"

"Shut your mouth, Sara, or else you'll wake-"

"OW!"

Nick tried to maneuver himself so he was against the wall, without waking Gil up. He knew it would just bug his friend to hear Sara being hurt, and Gil needed to rest his injuries off, as best he could. The drywall was cold against his ear, but he tried to listen through the thick material.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Your father wouldn't have liked to take it this far…"

"What? Take what this far? You made me bleed!"

A resounding smack. Nick was familiar enough with that noise to know what had just happened. Sara's face would probably still be red in the morning.

"Now you just keep your little mouth shut, and it will all be better come this afternoon."

"These aren't going to heal that fast."

"That's not what I'm talking about you little ingrate."

Other than some shuffling and muffled squeaks, nothing else was to be heard. Nick figured Sara's mother had scared her enough to make her keep her mouth shut. As he laid back down, Gil wrapped an arm around his waist, and snuggled into his neck.

"Sara…"

Quiet enough, but still notable.

----------

When Sara didn't come down for breakfast, Nick was worried. When she wasn't down by eleven, he was scared. And when Sara wasn't in time for lunch, he sent Gil up to check on her.

"Sara?" He knocked on her door. _Probably just has the flu. Wish Nicky hadn't sent me up to bug her…_ "Sara, it's Gil. Can I come in?"

"Go away."

"What?"

"I said, go away."

"Please, Sara, let me in. Why haven't you come out of your room all day?"

She wrenched open the door and pulled Gil in. He grabbed her wrist before she could hide it. Rough red marks danced over her soft skin, like she had been tied up. "What happened?"

"Nothing." She sighed, her voice was thick with tears. Her robe looked like it had been thrown on hastily when he came knocking.

"Please, tell me." He walked over to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, trying to comfort her in the only way he knew how. _Be gentle._

"Ouch." She breathed in the word quickly, almost a hiss, making Gil recoil.

"I'm sorry. Just tell me what happened."

"Last night…Mom…"

"Your Mom did this to you?"

"She said it would all be better today. I don't know what she meant, but I don't feel any better. Everything hurts, Gil. She cut me all up." Sara opened her robe. She only had on underwear, and Gil could see fresh sliced slithering over her abdomen, some around her armpits and breasts, and she dropped the garment, turning, so he could see the rest on her back. She looked like a slave. Her mother had treated her like a slave.

"But why?"

Sara's shoulders slumped and she collapsed on the floor, breathing out heavily, "I don't know."

"Ok…here, we'll get you dressed, and no one will know. You'll show her, Sara. You can be strong even when –"

The door hit Gil in the back of the head and everything went black.

-------

There was a piece of cotton in his mouth. He could feel it, trying to move his mouth around it was difficult – it made him want to gag. He tried to take it out, but rusty metal dug into his wrists, his neck was fixed down too, his thighs, his ankles…his waist. He wasn't going anywhere. Gil groaned loudly, tried not to cry. _Men do not cry. Slaves cannot cry._ Writhing only made the pain worse, so he conceded to stay still until someone told him what was happening.

What about Sara? The thought made him jump and subsequently smash his head on the ceiling. Ouch. Because of the dark, he couldn't seem to figure out where he was, or what was going on. Pushing his fingers and toes around, he figured where-ever he was, the room was short, but at least wider than him.

He heard a door open. He was reassured by the fact that he was unconcious this time. And then a little square of light appeared in front of his face, where a man was looking at him. The light burned his eyes, and it was difficult to make out any distinguishing features.

"Tha' one's a new one, sir." _An old time British accent?_ "Been sent in because 'e beat up 'is mistress."

"Mistress?" The man's voice was low, but not rough – it sounded too sweet to be buying a slave.

"Well sir, she wan't really 'is mistress, because the only time 'e ever managed to get in 'er pant was the time she turned 'im in for rapin' 'er."

"Rape? I don't know if I want something like that in my house."

"First time offence, sir. 'e's a prize, if I do say so meself."

"Well, then, you do. Fine, I'll take him."

The slide was shut, and the light was gone. But only for a moment. Gil heard locks being undone and the entire front of his 'room' (which was actually a coffin-sized box) was lifted away. A women – presumably the one with the accent – started undoing all of his attachments – save the one around his neck, and pulled him out of the box. Gil felt the piece of metal around his neck pulling on him, ever so light. _Oh God. _It was pulling because it was a collar. It was a collar and that man had a leash attached to the collar in his hand.

Gil was pushed onto his hands and knees and felt a thick paint being run over his back. It was cold and gave him the insatiable need to pee, but he just whimpered, tried not to show any discomfort.

"What wrong, little puppy?" That man's voice was suddenly cold. "Don't like your coat?"

The painter was slathering it on his shoulders now, then his neck (around the collar, of course), his arms, his stomach, his crotch, his legs, his ass. "Saving the best for last, sir." His face. He closed his eyes to block out the paint, but couldn't shut his lips – couldn't keep the taste out of his mouth – he tried not to cry, but he couldn't stop. Where was Sara? Why was he here? And why were they saying he raped her?

"Aw…poor little baby's crying. It's okay, you'll get used to it soon enough, they all do."

Gil started to writhe. He wasn't going anywhere without a fight. Not like this. They weren't humiliating him without a fight.

"Get me a shot!" the man called out.

_No. _Gil let himself go limp, closed his eyes and collapsed on the floor. Maybe they'd think he had a seizure and wouldn't give him the shot.

Maybe. Maybe not.

It burned as they plunged the needle into his thigh, injecting the liquid into his body. He felt cold running through his veins. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. This was all wrong. In two more weeks he would have been free and he would have found his mom. It wasn't...supposed...to...


	8. Anyway

Title: Anyway.  
Rating: PG-13  
A/N: I know it's been a while, and this is short, but I've been sooo busy! I'll try to have more up soon, but I've got some acting stints coming up soon, so no promises, k? Thanks for your patience, hope you like it!

* * *

Gil pulled on the collar, his chains clinking at the tension against steel bars. He tried to move his feet under him and ignore the grunting noises to his left. _And the collar never fit very well, anyways._ He sighed and stuck his fingers under the rusty neck restraint, desperately trying to claw it off in silence. He could hardly breathe as his chest constricted and the tears began to fall. He had been so close to finding his mom, and who knew how long he would be kept here?

There was barely any light in the room and the ominous grunting noise was getting louder and louder by the moment. It felt as thought the grunter was edging closer to him, breathing down his neck.

"Hello?" He wasn't sure if he should call out or not, but he took the chance.

And paid dearly for it when he was back handed across the face and sent flying to the floor, pulling at his chains. "Jesus. You're awake already?"

A man's voice. Gil tried to tug vainly at his chains as he felt the pressure behind his back get thicker and weigh on him more heavily. Hot breath itched down his skin, crawling inside of him. "I'm sorry." So man years of being a slave had taught Gil not to even bother an attempt to rise.

"Guess we'll just have to make early use of you then," a hand slipped around Gil's mouth, muffling his question.

"How long have I been here?"

"Shh…" the hand moved from his face to his balls, making him gasp, "You don't speak. I've only got you for a little while; we'll have to make the best of the time we've been given." The hand moved up his shaft and Gil tried to ignore the buildup of blood – it was just his body – but his face still turned hot with shame. And then the owner of the hand (and, Gil suspected, of him) removed his fist and pulled Gil's waist up, so he was on his hands and knees.

"Ple-" his request was forcefully cut off when he received a fierce blow across his ass. Gil bit his lips and tried to think of Sara.

_"This is the library. You're going to be helping me with my homework by getting a lot of my books from here."_

_He ran his fingers along the spines of the exposed books._

_"You like books?"_

_"My mom taught me how to read."_

_Sara looked at him for a moment, her eyes thick with emotion – _

Pain shot through him as the man shoved in, his hands grasping at Gil's sweaty waist, slipping off as he jerked back and forth.

"No…"

The reply was strained, "Shut up."

_Her hand reached out to touch his face, her skin soft as she grazed his stubble._

_"Can I tell you a secret?"_

_"Of course you can. You always can."_

_"I miss –"_

The man grunted in his ear, spilling hot into him, uncurling his rough digits from around Gil's hips. He stood up and Gil listened intently as rubber soles tread across the floor, and something metal was opened and closes. A light was flicked on, burning pain through Gil's eyes. Nothing had been left un-assaulted.

When he could finally see, Gil realized that the metal "thing" was in fact, a cage. A cage that he was in. There was a girl across the cage who was curled into a ball, her lank, blond hair covering her face so that her age was undetectable. There were chains on her wrists and ankles, instead of her neck, and Gil immediately appreciated the freedom the collar provided him.

"I'll bring you something to eat soon," said the man, who donned only a mask. "You _must _be hungry."

Gil hadn't noticed until now, but the man was right – he was hungry. He tried to ignore the pain in his stomach as he looked around the cell. There was nothing much of any consequence – no mattress, no sheets, no journal. No Sara.

"When do you get out?" the girl didn't bother to raise her head as she spoke to him. She still looked like a limp rage doll that somebody had tossed onto the floor.

"I'm not sure. Last I knew it was in two weeks, but I don't know how long it's been since then."

"Oh." She did not speak again, adding more to the impression of a blond Raggedy Anne doll.

Gil was content not to make friends with this slave girl – he had learned his lessons well enough already. When you are a slave, anyone – everyone – you care about will be ripped away from you. If you don't care – if you don't get close – it's harder to hurt. There was poorly laid concrete under him: it puckered up in spots and had already cut his pals, knees, and face.

The man came back in shortly, wearing pants now, and mask-less. He dropped a tin bowl just inside the bars and watched with sick enjoyment as Gil tried desperately to reach it, his chains choking out all of his air. Gil lay on his back and used his feet to nudge the bowl back toward himself.

"You're a smart one. Most of the others take a while to figure that out."  
It was a festering, stinking mass of garbage. However, it all looked as thought it had been edible at one point. Gil grabbed a handful, and holding his breath, shoved it into his mouth. Three handfuls of the slop took half of the bowl, so he slid the bowl over to the girl in the corner. It bounced off of her thigh but she didn't even seem to register its presence.

"She never eats unless she's alone. She's lucky you're only her two weeks or else she'd starve to death.

Gil ignored him, not feeling obligated to speak and curled into a ball.

_And the collar never fit very well, anyway._


	9. 3,4,5,6,7

Title: 3,4,5,6,7  
Rating: PG-13  
Disclaimer: You know it all.  
A/N: Wow. I know, it's been forever. But here's the next chapter. I swear, this is the first chance I've had to post since last time. I appreciate all the e-mails requesting an update. It's so nice to know you're so interested. I'll try to be faster next time. Enjoy!

* * *

Gil groaned and rolled over, avoiding the acrid stench of vomit, rubbing his face. A tacky substance stuck to the bridge of his nose and he pulled his hand away, studying his blue fingers, thumb, and palm. _Blue?_ The metal around his neck dug into his flesh, and he pulled on it, trying to ease the chafing pain. Loud moans tugged him rudely out of his thoughts, and he looked to see the girl yanking gently on her chains, nightmares plaguing her in her sleep.

"It's okay," he tried to tell her, his mouth felt as though it was stuffed with cotton and sand. The words came out wrong, warbled, detached because of his full mouth. "You're having a nightmare. Wake up." Avoiding the mess on the floor, he crawled as close to her as the chain would allow. "Hey. Hey! Wake up." He tried not to be too loud, didn't want to attract their master. The girl groaned and rolled over, her whines quieting, her body relaxing, her legs uncurling, her mouth slackening.

So Gil reclined against the metal bars of the cage.

"_Gil? Gil? I thought you might like to play chess outside with Nick. Should I go set it up?"_

"_Sure, Sara. I'll go get a snack."_

_Her hips swayed as she walked away. "Hold on, Sara. Sara?" Bu she wouldn't come back. "Sara?!"_

SMACK! A hand hit him hard across the face, pulling him back to reality. "Jesus, can't you shut your mouth?" A key drove into a lock and collar fell off of Gil's neck, clanking as it hit the concrete floor. "Time for you bath." He grasped Gil's curls in his fist and dragged him on his hands and knees out of the cage. _Bath? _

The hard stairs scraped his knees while he counted them _3…4…5…6…7_. The upstairs of the house was richly furnished, cherry and oak furniture, ceramic tile floors, leather couches. However, Gil was led outside, away from society and modern convenience to the dirty cement pad in the front yard. His face felt hot as a family walked by, glancing at him sheepishly over the fence. "Don't go anywhere, now"

Gil flinched as his master pinched the soft flesh on his stomach, telling him to lie down on his back. The spray of water emitted from the hose was cold and it beat his skin to red. It was difficult to ignore the young girl, peering over the fence; her wide eyes and small grasping fingers eerily similar to those of an eleven year old girl from many years prior.

He rolled over onto his stomach and grunted as the master pushed his fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp roughly. Filth and paint flaked off of bare skin as the jet of water attacked them, making Gil miss his shower at the Sidles.

"Come on dear, let's go."

"_Daddy, I want him._"

"What?" he whispered quietly. That was Sara's voice, sweet and familiar, wrapping around him, like a blanket in the cold wetness.

"_Get that bow off…"_

"Sara?" Where was she – why was she teasing him?

"Come on darling, let's go home."

"But mom…" her fingers wrapped more tightly around the white picket.

"_Please, daddy?"_

Gil pressed his palms to his ears as Sara started to drop her robe, gashes crossing back and forth along her skin, blood oozing out of her body and pooling around his feet. And she screamed. Oh, how she screamed.

-------------

"Your body was totally limp when he brought you in here." The girl was sitting, her knees to her chest, against the pillar that her chains were locked to.

"Limp?" He ribbed his eyes and tried to massage to goose-bumps out of his skin. "For how long?"

"I don't know." She sighed rolled her neck, making it crack. "You might be crazy."

"I am not," he growled at her.

"_I've missed you."_

"_I've missed you, too."_

"Everyone goes crazy at some point. At least you do here."

"Here?"

"Mhm…" she seemed to have reverted back to her old self, and Gil noticed, as his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, that she had been bathed, too.

"He's at work." Quiet. Light a whisper in the air, a fly by his ear.

"What?"

"Gone. At work for the day."

Gil put his hand to his throat. _No collar._

"He thought you'd be out for the day. It's being cleaned."

_Mind reader. _He snapped at her in his mind, hating that someone would know more about him than he did. The might be open, and what would it hurt to try? His knees cracked as he got up, walking to the door, and pushing lightly on the rusting metal. It squeaked as it swung open, making him jump. The door, however, hung on its hinges, just as happy as a door can be. He stepped out, his co-captive silent and forgotten. For all his tricks, this man wasn't much of a thinker. Gil ran up the stairs, smashing through the wooden door at the top. No, his master was not home. He began to search for a phone book, he had to call Sara. The police wouldn't care about him. Cupboards full of food tempted him to stop and fill his aching stomach, but he continued looking. Finally, he was rewarded with the book, under a telephone, of all places.

_Sidle, Sidle, Sidle._

His fingers flipped the pages nervously, and then flew down the "S" columns stopping at Sidle. Just the one. He picked up the phone and awkwardly dialed the small buttons, hoping Sara would pick up.

_ring_

His master might come home at any moment.

_ring _

He wished someone would just answer the damn phone.

_ring – "Hello?"_

"Hi." He tried to disguise his voice. "Is Sara there?"

"_This is she. Gil?"_

"Oh, God. Sara." He tried to keep from trying, but the sobs caught in his throat and he slumped to the floor, using the counter to brace himself. "I've been thinking about you so much. My master, he's horrible. He's breaking Slave Law. You have to get me out of here."

"_Where are you?"_

"I don't know…" he wracked his mind for a memory. Any memory. "The number is 6245. But I don't know the street. And there's a huge oak in the front yard."

"_Look for some mail, Gil."_

"Ok," he clenched the phone between his shoulder and his ear, flinging pieces of paper everywhere. "Sara, I can't find anything." His stomach fluttered, he knew she would hear the panic in his voice.

"_It's okay Gil, just keep looking."_

He flipped through stacks of paper, finding nothing…nothing. "Got it. Okay, the address is 6245 18th ST."

"Having a party are we?" Cold fingers wrapped around his arm so that the mail and phone dropped to the floor. "Well, I have a surprise for you."

"_Gil?"_

"Too bad you didn't get to say goodbye to your girlfriend."

Gil looked at him, a puppy who had been abused one too many times, his limbs slack under the control of his master. "What will you do to me?"

"Whenever someone gets a new pet, it's their responsibility to get it fixed. That way, it won't go out into the world and make more nasty pets. Today, you're going to be…fixed."

"What?" Gil's eyes widened, but he made no move to get away.

"_Gil!? Are you okay?"_

"I found a very nice doctor who said he'd do it today, just for you."

He began to drag Gil down the stairs and all the young man could hear was the beeping dial tone and the bang of his ankles on each step.


	10. I Don't See What Anyone Can See

Title: I Don't See What Anyone Can See in Anyone Else  
Rating: PG-13  
Disclaimer: Yakkity Yak  
A/N: Thanks for all the reviews. Ya'll really rock! This chapter kind of sucks, but it's really just a segway to get the real plot rolling. If I can live through the suckage...you can too (I hope!) I want to have a new story up soon, but I'm supposed to write an article for a newspaper (I know, it's kind of like What? It just came out of no where :P ) so only the Gods of CSI land know when the next chapter will be. At the latest on Saturday. I love you all!  
A/N2: (1) SOC: Slave Operation Committee. They basically stand up for the few rights slaves have.

* * *

His head hung lose on his shoulders, and flopped back and forth as he hit each step. It wasn't until Gil reached the bottom steps and saw the straps on the floor, and a sheet – presumably to soak up his blood – that his reflexes kicked in and his body began to jerk in the hands of his master. He kicked and writhed as his neck was strapped down, the leather digging into his flesh. Next, his wrists were strapped to the ground above his head so his arms were straight. As his master grasped one of his ankles, he kicked out and smashed into his chin, knocking the bastard's teeth together with a satisfying clanging sound. "Bitch!"

His master bent Gil's knees and strapped his feet down so that his ankles were almost touching his thighs. Gil's torso – the only thing not stuck done – writhed with fear, and he felt bile rising in his throat as the sheet was lain over his upper half. "Ok!" His spine shuddered as his master called to someone. "We're all ready."

_Ready?_

He heard heavy footsteps drawing closer, the chink of metal on metal and Gil steeled himself for a certain amount of pain. Biting his tongue, he squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his fist…._What's taking so long?_ He wasn't one for pain, but he also didn't like being kept in the dark.

"Man, you know I can't do this."

He didn't dare to hope.

"What?! Why not?"

His master sounded enraged.

"I won't break slave law. And this would break slave law. He's already gone through puberty."

Gil still held his breath – if there's one thing he had learned as a slave, it was not to trust luck.

"Well, then give me the fucking knife and I'll do it myself."

"Sorry man, you're my buddy, but no can do. I'd have to call SOC(1) on you ."

"Then get the hell out of my house!"

Listening with a measure of uncertainty, Gil could hear feet running up the stairs and through the door. The sheet was lifted off of his face so he could see a small part of his master's sneer. "I'll be back with another doctor soon, don't you worry. Now, don't go anywhere." The sheet dropped and Gil heard another pair of footsteps race up the stairs.

--------------------

Gil knew he had been under the sheet for at least three hours, if not more. His bladder was pleading with him for release, but he refused to pee on himself. He wanted to keep as much dignity as possible in this position. A scratch in his throat begged for water, but he didn't dare call out for a drink, lest his lose a very dear part of his anatomy in response. He listened extremely closely, but for the past few hours, he had heard nothing but the shuffling of the girl in the cage.

Just as he was about to relax and close his eyes, footsteps began walking down the stairs again. He steeled himself, clenching his fists again.

"Here! He's down here!"

His breath escaped his lungs in a rush and he opened his mouth, letting out a loud groan. "Sara!?" He didn't want to believe it – twice now he seemed to be saved by this girl – but he had to have some hope.

"It's me Gil." She ripped off the sheet and there she was, a little angel with brown hair, staring down at him, smiling sadly. "I'm so glad I found you before he hurt you…to bad."

"Me, too."

She bent down towards his face, going to kiss the tears off of his face when she pulled back at the sound of her father's voice. "Well, let's get him out of here."

Gil's stomach dropped and his throat filled with cotton. He didn't think he'd being staying at the Sidle's for a week and half. Sara's mother would probably beat her within an inch of her life, just to get rid of him. None-the-less, Sara hurriedly undid the straps and helped him sit up. "Are you…ok? Well, ok as you can be?" Her arm was warm on his back, and he thought maybe he could stay there forever.

"I'm thirsty…I have to pee."

She chuckled. "Ok, there's water in the car. Can you just go down here?"

He nodded and snuck into a corner of the basement, did what had to be done and walked meekly over to Sara.

"Oh, God." She pet his hair and ran a thumb over his face. "I can't believe this."

"Sara…You can't have me again…"

"Why not? You like it better here?"

"Your…mom."

She smiled sadly again, and laced her fingers in his, walking him up the stairs. "Don't worry about her."

Nick was sitting in the van, clad in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, smiling at Gil. "Oh man, I'm so happy we found you!" He hopped out of his seat and wrapped his arms around Gil. "I brought you something." A set of clothes. Gil slipped them on easily and sat in the back of van.

"Can I ask what's going on?" He wasn't sure if he wanted to know, but the catch of the engine didn't quite drown out his answer, and as Mr. Sidle started to turn down the street, Sara responded.

"Well, when Daddy found out that Mommy had…hurt me…he sent her away." Her reply was so innocent, so…unaware of the danger that her mother was probably in. Sara just sounded as though justice was finally being served, after so many years of a lull in the system.

Gil grunted in response and looked out of the window, not sure what he should think. Mr. Sidle had always been nice, but now he and Nick were wearing clothes, and Ms. Sidle was gone and sometimes…things just felt too good to be true.

-----------------

"Shit."

"Shit?"

"Shit."

"Well, what's wrong?"

"He's waking up."

"That's okay. He can wake up."

"I'm not done yet."

_It _was _too good to be true._

"Just hurry up, then."

Gil kept his eyes closed, perhaps he could prolong this non-painful state he was currently in for a little longer. Which was a rarity in his world. His rubbed his stomach with a flat palm, unable to keep his eyes shut when he felt fabric beneath his hand.

"Good morning, sleepyhead!" Sara was straddling his waist and beaming down at him, her hands fanned out so he could see the sign. _Welcome HOME Gil!_ Nick was standing next to it, seemingly just finished hanging. They were all in the room he and Nick had shared, Gil was swaddled in the sheets and wearing an undershirt and boxers.

"Good morning. Thanks for the sign." He sat up, wrapping his arms around Sara. He didn't know why, but the fact that her heat was seeping into his, the fact that her scent was rubbing onto him, the fact that her hair was tickling his nose as he hugged her close, felt normal and usual. Gil Grissom knew he do this every morning.

Nick politely gave them a moment before chiming in. "Now, sir, you have one week left as a slave. What shall we do to celebrate your imminent departure?"

"I'd like to go for a walk. It's been a long time since I've seen the outside world."

Nick's eyes lit up and he looked to Sara. "Can we?"

"I don't see why not…"


	11. Rapping Presence

Title: Rapping Presence  
Rating: PG-13  
Disclaimer: Who took the CSIs from the TV? It's you! Not me! Then who could it be?! I didn't steal 'em. For long.  
A/N: I'm so sorry I made you guys wait so long! I've been so busy and stressed, but this was such a nice relief, and all your encouragments really helped spur me on. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

It was a cloudy day, and Gil and Nick each grabbed an umbrella on their way out. Sara clasped both of their free hands in hers, grinning as they left suburbia and turned onto a street, walking into town. The shops were all open, and the scent of fresh baking tempted Gil, but he ignored it, hoping that all this good luck would stay.

Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked, followed by a low whine. A slave, attached to his master by a leash, walked by them, his eyes downcast, his tan skin glistening with sweat. He had probably been walking for a while. There had been an unspoken agreement between the three of them not to ask or tell about what had gone on while Gil was away, but the smell of latex paint still disturbed him and Sara was curious about why he refused to use the hose in the garden, instead preferring to fill the watering can inside the house and carry it out.

Nothing had traumatized him more than the short time he had been the puppy of an evil master. And Gil wasn't sure why. He had been made to do more humiliating things, he had gone days without food. The only thing he could consider a possibility was the pain Sara was in right before he left.

That evening, after dinner, he laid on Sara's bed while she sat on the floor, painting her nails. "Are you okay now?" He asked, tossing a marble up to smack the canopy stretched above him, squinting as it returned with an astonished speed. "

"Yes, of course, I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Are the cuts still there?"

"Some of them." She capped the nail polish and blew on her nails to dry the last coat of the astonishingly pink varnish.

"Which ones?" He rolled onto his side and marble dropped to the floor, rolling until it bumped lightly into a rug, where it stopped.

"The deep ones. Can we not talk about this?"

"Why not?"

"I don't like to think about it."

"Why not?"

"Do you like to think about being hurt?"

"Sometimes it helps. It helps me get over it."

"That's a lie."

"It is not."

She frowned at him for some time before her finally dried nails reached up to unbutton her pajama top.

"What are you doing?"

Sara didn't open her mouth, but continued to undo the buttons, peeling off the garment when she was done. She turned around so Gil could see one large welt across her back. It seemed all of the other cuts had been superficial, but this one had been incurred in an intense bout of anger on her mother's part. Gil got off the bed slowly, and crouched so he was on the floor behind Sara's kneeling form. He ran a finger down the cut, Sara gasped and arched her back as his cool fingertip prodded the warm flesh. Reaching the bottom of the cut, Gil wrapped his arms around her waist and placed his cheek on her shoulder. Sara's fingers curled around his.

"Read this."

"Why?"

His finger pointed to a small article about a deaf slave who had been sold to a very rich midwife who was looking for assistance in her field.

"A deaf slave. A woman. How old was your mother?" Nick sat on the edge of the breakfast bar and picked up the newspaper, glancing at Gil, who continued to spoon cornflakes into his mouth.

"She'd be in her 40s now…why?"

"You're a smart man. This could be her! And in 4 days, you'll be able to go find her. Maybe you could buy her with the money from the SOC?"

"I don't think it would be enough."

"Really? A deaf woman, in her late 40s who has given birth at least once?"

"Only once," he glared at Nick, but Gil had to accept the truth that his friend was probably right. His mother was a rarity in the slave trade, and as far as price was concerned, that wasn't a good thing. But maybe for him it would be. Gil had been planning on buying an apartment with his findings, but if Nick was right, and the woman in this article was his mom, he could get her right now, and worry about lodgings later.

"Can I have that paper?" He dropped his spoon into the bowl, ignoring the harsh clanging sound it made as he accepted the folded newspaper from Nick, who promptly slid off of the counter. "Where are you going?"

"Laundry," he said right before the dryer buzzed.

"I can get it."

"No, it's okay. Read about your mom."

"Maybe." His eyes scanned the small print, his head hurt as he tried to focus on the tiny letters swimming in front of him. "Damn." Barely a whisper. The cornflakes sat, uneaten, on the counter when he stood and jogged out of the kitchen, up the stairs to Sara's bedroom. Using a flat palm, Gil knocked on her door.

"What is it? I'm kind of busy."

"Sara, it's Gil. This is important."

"Oh! Just hold on a minute."

"Can I come in?" He wrapped his fingers around the doorknob and began to turn it, pushing the door open.

"No! Just –" She froze, staring at him, mortified, sitting at her desk. "Wait." A young man on the computer screen smiled beguilingly at Gil, holding his erection in one hand. "Oh God. This is so-"

"Embarrassing?"

"Mortifying. Humiliating." Sara buried her red face in her hands.

"Sara!" Nick's voice trailed up the stairs. "Got your laundry!"

Quickly, she minimized the screen, leaving the background with just a daisy shining at Gil now. "Don't tell anyone, please, or I'll die."

Gil was just beginning to nod, still dumb with shock, when Nick came in. "Hey, everything okay?"

"Yeah, just great. Gil and I were just about to have a private conversation."

"I know when I'm not wanted," Nick said, but he smirked when he set a stack of clothing on Sara's bed and backed out of the room, closing the door softly behind himself.

"I just…wanted to see, okay?"

"I'm not judging you. Do I look like I'm judging?"

"No," she frowned, standing up, walking towards him and placing a small hand on his, "You look hurt."

"I'm not…okay, maybe a little."

"You want me to look at you instead?"

"Yes…No!"

"What, then, would you have me do?"

"I don't know, Sara. It's just…you're so young."

"Gil, I'm almost an adult."

"Sara!"

"It's true. And I'd rather look at you, but I've tried, and you won't let me. I sure as hell don't want to have to force myself on you."

He cringed and set the newspaper down on her nightstand, looking sadly into her eyes. "I don't know what to say. My feelings are conflicting. I think you're too young to be having sexual relations with anyone, even me. Especially me. I'm five years your elder. However, that being the case, I still love you. And I want you all to myself. But only when you're old enough. No, wait! I want you all to myself all the time, but I'll only be with you…that intimately when you're old enough. Maybe that's selfish of me, but that's the truth. So yes, my feelings are a little hurt that you went and looked at some…dish online."

"I don't think I've ever heard you say so many words in one thought."

"You get my juices flowing." It took him a moment to realize his mistake. "Shit."

Sara smiled at him. "What did you come here for?"

"What? Oh." He held out the newspaper to her. "Will you read me the article about the slave?"

"Why don't you read it? You know perfectly well how to read on your own."

"The print is too small, it hurts my eyes."

"Okay." Sara took the paper from him and plopped herself on the bed. "Mmm…here we go. _A 46 year old female, deaf, single, was sold yesterday to a _… Joseph Feenlay? Anyways, _she sold for only 6,000 dollars after it was declared she only had five years left in her contract. The slave has given birth to one male, a Gilbert Grissom, who is currently in custody elsewhere, to be freed in a short 4 days._ Gil, this is your mom!"

"That's what I thought."

"We have to find this man. Maybe he'll sell her to you."

"Maybe he won't."

"What?"

"Sara, it's very hard for a slave to buy a slave. No one likes to see a slave go free, and usually when one buys a comrade, that's the first thing they do. That's what I do to her."

"Gil, you've got to try. You'll still have money left over if you buy her at the asking price."

"He'll be down a slave."

"You think he'll care?"

"My signing is rusty."

"Catch up on it."

"How?"

"Damn it! You told me finding your mother was the most important thing to you! Now have your scruples changed? Are you not the boy I fell in love with? Why do you not want to find her?"

"What if she doesn't remember me?" His voice cracked as he hung his head, fighting the tears in the back of his throat. A soft hand touched the nape of his neck.

"Of course she'll remember you. Who could forget you?"


	12. Soaked

Title: Soaked  
Rating: PG-13  
Disclaimer: Who said I owned them?  
A/N: Okay, it's been forever. I'm sorry. There are no excuses this time. Just - I'm sorry. Hope you like this one.

* * *

Gil rolled over and avoided the warm body next to him, folding his fists under his chest and tucking his legs under his stomach. His mind rolled as he flopped onto his side, and tossed his head from left to right. Balling his hand into a fist, he dropped it on his stomach, and then shoved it to his side. Nick shifted, and grunted. Gil rolled onto his side and pulled his knees up, wrapping his arms around them and clasping his hands.

"Man, will you calm down? What is wrong with you?"

"I'm sorry. I'm nervous." He ran his fingers through his hair and breathed out slowly.

"What're you nervous about?"

"I'm going to leave in a few days…wouldn't you be nervous?"

"I guess, but I'm trying to sleep, bud. Chill out."

"I'll just...I'll be right back." Gil rolled over Nick and dropped his weight on the floor, turned and left the room. The bathroom light was dim and buzzed as it swung back and forth in the air. Gil scrutinized himself in the mirror, frowning at the stubble that spattered his cheeks and chin. He reached for the razor, without looking, but his fingers fell on a bare counter. When he looked down, it was missing. Most inappropriate to his situation.

He walked back to his room and opened the door. "Nick?"

"Mm?!" He moaned into the pillow and shifted his legs.

"Did you move the razor?"

"No. Why do you need the razor?"

"Just wondering." He closed the door and backed out of the room before walking next door to Sara's room and pushing the door open lightly. She was curled on her side, sleeping, her back to the bedroom door. There was the razor on her nightstand, illuminated eerily by the moonlight filtering in through one of her windows. He stepped over quietly and picked it up. He was about to leave, but a burning curiosity stopped him. He turned back and set the razor down. "Sara?" he sat down beside her, draping a hand over her hip. "Sara, can I ask you a question?"

"Hmm?" She rolled over and looked at him with bleary eyes, "What's up?" She blinked as he ran a hand over her forehead, pushing some hair out of her face.

"That's what I was going to ask you. Why is my razor in here?"

She squinted and looked at him, confused, for a second before registering his query. "Oh, um…I don't know."

"Sara…?"

"Gil, don't make me," a whine danced on the edge of her voice, and Gil decided it would take a while to get the information out of her. He swung his legs up and lay on his side, putting one hand under his cheek to support his head so he could still see Sara.

"What is it, Sara?"

"Look, it's personal."

"So is our relationship." He smiled at her, hoping it had the intended effect in the dim light.

She giggled and ran a light finger up his arm. "Gil…It's nothing really, just trivial teenager stuff."

"I want to know."

"Why?"

"Why wouldn't I? You are…so special to me. I want to know anything there is to know."

"Um…I really don't think –"

"Just spit it out," though the phrase was harsh, his tone of voice was anything but, and Gil felt Sara's body relax while she let a breath out.

"Ok, my friend, Jessica, at school, started shaving when we were…14 or 15. And I've always been jealous. Daddy says there's no reason for me to shave because only – only tramps do. But I just want to be like all the other girls. They all make fun of me behind me back – I know it."

"I don't think so."

"How would you know?"

Gil's brow furrowed. Sara's fingers wrapped around his wrist, slender but tight, and she rolled her thumb over the warm flesh, feeling his hair stand up on end as goose bumps erupted from the skin.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound so mean. Anyways, I just wanted to see. See what it felt like. So I just borrowed your razor. I was going to bring it back tomorrow morning after my shower."

"Do you even know how to shave?"

"Um…it's simple, right? You just-" She mimed pulling a razor up her leg and looked at Gil for approval.

"Not that simple. You need to make sure you have some kind of a conditioner or lubricant so you don't hurt yourself. You can get razor burn. I use soap, but I know your dad uses gel, and that's better, so maybe wait until he goes to work and take that. Make sure you shave against the way your hair grows."

"But that's just for your face, I bet legs are different."

"No, I should think not."

"This is really embarrassing; an adult male is teaching me how to shave."

"Someone has to." He put his head down on the pillow so that their noses were almost touching. He leaned his face to the side to kiss her, pushing his chin forward until their lips grazed each other. His hand ran up her back, and she hissed, her cut reacting to burn of fiber on it. Her back arched, pushing her chest into his, and Sara lifted her leg to wrap around his hips, her night gown falling to expose a bare thigh. Her fingers trailed up his bare chest and over his shoulders while Gil's tongue maneuvered its way into her mouth, nervously exploring new territory. Sara teeth smashed into his as she tried to close the gap between them and he pulled away.

"What am I doing?" He got up quickly, and stumbled, tripping on the sheets wrapped around his ankles, and fell backward on the ground, hitting his head. He pulled his legs up and tried to rise, but stars danced in his vision and his eyes closed and he dropped.

--

"Is he awake?"

"I think he's waking up."

A woman's face swam into Gil's vision, her dark red hair tucked back behind her ears. She had on a white coat and was clutching a clip board to her chest. "Welcome back to the world of the living, Mr. Grissom."

He groaned and touched the tender spot on the back of his head. "What happened?"

"You took quite a spill. Sara got you help as soon as was possible. We'll just get you some ice and you'll be good as new in a day or so. You might want to take some aspirin for a few days to keep the pain at bay."

"Thank you."  
"I'll leave you two alone for a moment." She walked out of a curtain and swiftly closed it behind herself. Gil was suddenly cognizant of the fact that he was wearing a hospital gown.

"Where are we?"

"Ok…Well, when you fell, you kind of…Gil, you had a raging hard on. I waited for at least 10 minutes, and it didn't go away. But I had to get you help. I'm so sorry."

"Your dad saw me like that? Oh shit. Now he'll think I've got some creepy thing for you and he'll charge me for rape, or God knows what…" He ran his hand through his hair nervously and immediately his eyes darted around the small enclosure for the man.

"No! No, he doesn't know. I got Nick. He said there were only a few ways to get rid of it."

"No…Sara," Gil's eyes were wide.

"He said we had to take care of it."

"Jesus Christ! You should have just let your dad see me like that. Don't tell me the rest, I'm humiliated as it is."

"I'm really sorry." She grabbed one his hands and laced her fingers through his. "I was just trying to do what I thought was best for you. For us. For this."

"I understand," he mumbled, still awkward, trying not to envision the events that had occurred when he was unconscious.

--

"What are you reading?"

"_Metamorphosis_. What about you?"

"_The Heart is a Lonely Hunter. _It's not a great book, but I have to read it for school."

"You should just be glad you can read."

"I suppose. Am I getting a lecture again on appreciating life?"

"It's hard for me, Sara, to have so much, to see people with so much, and remember that just a short time ago, I was living in a cage with a girl who probably didn't know a Chinese character from a letter in our alphabet. There are people out there who live like animals – who are treated like animals. I try not to preach to you, really, I do. But sometimes, I just wish these opportunities were available to everyone."

"Do you still have your tattoo?"

"What?"

"Your number."

"Yes. That was moderately random. More than moderately. Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering."

"Tattoos don't normally disappear of their own accord."

"Shut up."

"Okay."

"Don't really."

"Okay."

"Can I tell you a secret?"

"Sure."

"I think I might be in love with you."

"I think so, too."

--

_The mirror doesn't really reflect a great image of who or what we are. I retained very little of myself as a child. I can't recall what I looked like, or what I sounded like, and even what I enjoyed. Probably not much. This mirror doesn't show my apprehension, or my fear. It doesn't show who I love, or how much I love them. It doesn't show years of pain, or years of happiness. It doesn't show joy or disappointment. It can't tell my future, and is unable to judge my past. It knows nothing about me, except that I can't shave without cutting myself at least once._

--

Nick swung his legs from the counter in the kitchen, and every time one of them fell back to the island, there was a resounding _THWAK_ through the kitchen. Gil rolled his eyes as he folded the laundry, smiling at his friend.

"I'm going to miss you, pal." Nick's voice was quiet, and low. Gil tried not to think of what Nick was going to be like when he left. He remembered what Nick was like when he first met him. Timid and shy, nervous and distraught. The man before him now was much more courageous and he exuded a sense of knowing himself. Better yet, loving himself.

"I'll miss you, too, but don't worry, I'll come back."

"You wouldn't come back for me," Nick grinned at him, hopping off of the counter and walking towards the foyer.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Gil swerved his body slightly in his chair, and focused on Nick, even though he knew what his friend was insinuating. There was no reply as the younger male opened the door and stepped outside into the rain, letting his clothing be drenched by the down pour. Seeing Nick out there, soaking up everything the sky had to offer, made Gil want to join him. As he stood next to his friend, under the falling water, letting it form small pearls of liquid glass on his eyelashes, Gil felt found for the first time in many years.

"What are you guys doing out here?"

"Soaking up the sky." Nick grinned at Sara as she took of her slippers and stepped outside, letting Gil embrace her while they looked up at the clouds.


	13. If You Can Get There

Title: If You Can Get There  
Rating: R  
Disclaimer: Yadda yadda yadda, hooby dooby dauby.  
A/N: Another long wait, another strange chapter! :)

* * *

"Well, you're all packed. You ready to go?" Sara was sitting on the end of his bed, her fingers curled around the edges.

Gil straightened the hem of his shirt and grimaced. "I don't have a toothbrush." He left the room and returned shortly with one, before tucking it in between his few packed garments. "I guess I'm ready, now."

Sara slid off the bed slowly and walked over to him, maneuvering her bare toes around his socked feet. She wrapped her arms around his waist, rested her head on his chest, and breathed out a sigh. Gil rubbed her back and planted a kiss on the crown of her head.

"I'm going to miss you," her voice cracked as the words slipped out.

He pushed back a little, and used his thumb to wipe a tear from Sara's face.

"I know it's stupid," she said shakily, "but I can't get over these nerves. Every time you've left it…well, it hasn't been good."

"It will be okay Sara. I'll be okay." He ran his fingers through her hair, and leaned down to kiss her. His stubble scratched along her cheeks as he kissed the side of her jaw and squeezed her close. "Do you want me to call you tonight?"

"I'd like that." She sniffed and smiled shyly at him before kissing him again. Her lips were nervous, like the first time their mouths had touched, and the tears penetrated their junction.

"Gil!" Sara's father called from the foyer, "It's time to go!"

Pulling reluctantly away from Sra, Gil snapped his suitcase shut. "I love you," he choked back some tears, and swallowed at the lump in his throat. Sara grabbed his fingers and walked down the stairs with him.

"I wish you'd let me go to the hearing, Dad."

"Sara, I just don't think it's appropriate." Her father frowned.

"Why not?"

"Gil will be talking about a lot of things I'd rather you didn't know about."

"But I could…"

"I don't mind if she comes," Gil shifted his feet nervously.

--

The court room was stifling, Gil longed to claw at the buttons of his polo and rip off his dockers. There were only eight people in the room: The judge, the bailiff, the recorder, the defendant, Gil's lawyer, Sara's dad, Sara, and Gil. He sat down at his table and felt Sara take a seat behind him. The preliminaries were run through quickly as they all knew this would take a long time: recapping 16 years of slavery.

_Skin caught on fake leather, the smell of a vanilla air freshener, the acrid, chemical stench of cologne. There was a painful surge of fullness, and flesh stretched, his stomach churned. His nose pressed so hard against the handle, it cracked and bled as his body was jostled. Blue underpants tangled around his ankles, ripped off to join his sneakers and pants. His shirt was shoved up to his armpits and claws raked down his flesh. Salty tears found their way into his mouth, and then the light changed and the limo took off. A sense of being filled further, and then emptied. He curled in a ball, tugging his t-shirt over his folded knees._

"And you were how old when this happened?"

"I was 10. My mother stayed at the house and cleaned and cooked while we went on these 'rides'."

"Ok…can you tell me…."

_He was hot. He had never been so hot. In a box so small, he could barely move. He could smell his own fear, and feel his heart beating hard against the roof of his mouth. His arms were pinioned closely to his sides, his ankles felt like they were tied together. A slot was ripped open in front of his eyes, and the light that came in burned his corneas, so he had to shut his eye-lids. And then the entire cover was lifted and he was tugged out, stepping out of the puddle of sewage he had been standing in, leaving filthy foot prints on the floor. He was shoved onto his hands and knees so his stomach was over a bar. Hands tied down by thick leather straps, ankles, too – so that his ass was exposed in the air. His mother's fingers appeared in front of his face, pushing his long hair out of his vision, and apologizing. A searing pain and something icy cold was inside of him. He frowned, but his mother's hand cupped his chin. The tears fell anyways, and when the source of the pain was gone, the shame stayed._

"This was your…?"

"Fourth owner," Gil frowned, "I would have two more before the Sidles, and two after."

"But you're with the Sidles, now?"

"It was a back and forth kind of thing."

"So, I hear stories about James Dylie. He was your most recent owner besides the Sidles?"

"He was?"

"He keeps his slaves in an underground cage."

"Oh. Him. He neglected my needs and attempted to castrate me."

"Let the record state," his lawyer spoke next to him," That Mr. Grissom was completely done his adolescent growth at the time this incident occurred."

"That will surely be taken into account," the judge looked Gil heard in the eye, "Castration of a post-pubescent slave, male or female, is strictly prohibited."

"Yes," Gil replied uneasily, "I know."

"And then you were returned to the Sidles?"

"In a manner of speaking," he nervously shifted in his seat.

"Well, Mr. Grissom, every thing seems to be in order here. The court grants you an additional 16,000.00 for your services. Court dismissed."

Gil stood, relieved, and ran his fingers through his hair. Sara's hands were instantly on his back, massaging his tense muscles. "That was so brave," her whisper was soft, by his side, lifting his hair from his skin, as Mr. Sidle shook hands with the lawyer.

"16,000.00. 1000.00 for every year of service. That the usual payout for sex slaves. I'm nothing special."

"You're special to me."

Mr. Sidle took Gil to cash his checks and help his set up a bank account before driving him to a hotel. "Good luck, kiddo. Call if you need anything."

But sometimes, you just can't reach a phone.


	14. Change is Welcome

Title: Change is Welcome  
Rating: PG-13  
A/N: Well it's been some time since I've updated, but here it is. Any of you who are still reading this, thank you! I appreciate your loyalty and I promise to behave better next time.

* * *

Gil Grissom was having extreme difficulty deciding exactly what he wanted to do with his time. He, personally, could not recall a time in his past when he had made his own decisions – no guidelines, no stipulations. Nothing was holding him back save the incessant fear that was gnawing a hole through his stomach. He couldn't help but wonder how the world had changed since he had last seen it. Gil didn't like to consider himself naïve or foolish, but he knew that there were a lot of things in the world most men his age did or enjoyed that he had never even heard of.

Disregarding what he considered an irrational fear, Gil tucked his hotel key card into his back pocket and grabbed his wallet, holding it in a tight fist. He heard the door click shut behind him as he debated, in his mind, whether to take the stairs or the elevator. A woman smashed into him, running down the hall, and began frantically smashing the down arrow button for the elevator, making up Gil's mind for him. He edged through the door to the stair well and went down.

He went up to the front desk to ask where he might find a place to eat. His heart was fluttering so madly, he worried he may vomit the muscle onto the counter as the gentleman behind it patiently drew out a map on a thick piece of paper. "There you are, sir." He smiled broadly, before there was a smash, and his grin melted to a frown. "I'm sorry, sir, I'll have to go now." The young man, probably a year or two younger than Gil, raced out from behind the counter and over to the elevator, just in time to catch the woman falling out from inside of it.

Referring to his paper, Gil left the building, trying not to stare at the unconscious woman, but finding it difficult to do so. The walk to the small diner was short, and soon he was seated in a booth, with a cup of coffee, and waiting for his meal. It was quite difficult for him to get used to be waited on so often, after 20 years of doing the waiting on. He consoled himself, however, with the fact that at least these people were getting paid and weren't being abused.

The small waitress came back out with his food and set it down on the table for him. "If you don't mind my asking," the red-head smiled, "Where are you from? You're dressed up too fancy to be from here."

"I don't mind at all," he smiled broadly at her, glad to have met someone moderately sane, "I'm actually from the east side of town, however I no longer live there." He refrained from telling her he was a slave – he assumed that was something to leave out of polite conversation with someone you had only just met.

"Oh, wow. This is sure a different area. You sure you want to be over here? It's a little dangerous in comparison."

Gil bit his lip, "Well, I honestly don't have much of a choice, right here is the only area I can afford to live in at the moment."

She wiped her hands on her apron, before pulling out her note pad. "Well, listen. Sometimes it gets real rough in this neighborhood. If you ever need some advice, or you just wanna talk, you call this number." She scribbled a phone number down and handed it to him. "Ok?"

"Thank you." He folded it before tucking it into his wallet.

--

The food was alright, but the company was wonderful. Dina came back many times to chat until she needed to help another customer. Gil left her as large a tip as he could afford before leaving the diner and walking in a crowbar.

Blood spilled from his nose, which was surely broken from the impact. His hands instantly flew up to protect his face, and so they were smashed instead. Heavy hits shattered the bones in his right hand before a blow to his knees, sending him down to the ground. He attempted to keep his torso up right, but was knocked over easily. Some hands in his back pockets grabbed the key card and threw it down next to him. Then his wallet. 300.00 gone. However that was a small loss in comparison to what he would have to pay for all of his medical bills. His attackers rolled him onto his side with their steel-toed boots and dropped his empty wallet next to him.

Gil tried to curl into a ball, cradling his broken hand. The light in the diner turned off, but he passed out before he could hear Dina's scream.

--

When Gil woke up, his face and hand were both bandaged beyond recognition, it was then that he decided he had spent far too much time in hospital. He felt around with his left hand and realized both of his knees had been put in casts at 180 degree angles. He couldn't bend his knees at all. Thirst was beginning to overwhelm him, and it was with reticence that he pushed the call button to get the nurse's attention. She came scuttling in and popped a straw in his mouth. As he drank, she recorded his vitals with her free hand. When he was done, she smiled sadly at him.

"We weren't sure when you'd wake up. You took quite a beating."

When he tried to speak, Gil realized his nose was indeed broken, and his voice was distorted because of it. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Only two days. Perfectly common for this type of trauma."

"Oh my God."

"Do you need us to call anyone for you?" She went through the regulatory steps, smiling down at him. Was that a plastic face that she put on for the patients who made her go home and cry? What did they know about him?

"Yes. Sara Sidle."

"Alright. I'll go and phone her. In the meanwhile, I'm going to send the doctor in to talk to you."

Gil nodded stiffly, but knew he didn't want to talk to the doctor just as much as the doctor didn't want to talk to him. The nurse left and Gil waited 10 minutes for the doctor.

The older man picked up Gil's chart, and smiling at him, flipped through it quickly before perching on the edge of his bed. "Mr. Grissom, we had to do some reconstructive surgery on your face. Nothing major, but you will be very tender for the next few days. Your knees will need approximately 6 months to heal, but it may be longer. Your physical therapist will have to make that decision when it comes a little closer to that time. Your hand is unfortunately quite shattered. I don't believe you'll ever have full mobility in it again. Also, while were checking you over, we found a substantial amount scar tissue in your rectum. I wasn't sure if you wanted to have that fixed…"

"No." Gil moved to pinch the bridge of his nose before he realized neither his hand nor his nose were in working condition. "No, that's okay. It's not really in my budget-"

"Sir, I don't know if this will change your mind or not, but if the situation is not rectified soon, it may too late to do anything for you." The doctor shifted uneasily on the bed before setting down the chart and resting a hand on Gil's shin. "Mr. Grissom, I've been in your position before…"

Gil shot him a look and he pulled his hand away quickly, not speaking any further on the topic. He tucked the chart back at the end of the bed and was almost out the room before he turned around, "We'll want you to stay for a few more days, and after that we'll notify you immediately if anything concerning your health should change."

The doctor was cold and distant, even more so than when he first walked in. While Gil appreciated the attempt to connect to a certain extent, he also hated it when people tried to make it seem like they knew what he'd been through. No one could: he was the only one who went through it.


	15. It is Possible

Rating: PG-13  
Title: It is Possible  
A/N: Well, I was planning on going over this once more before posting, but I've had a lot of requests. So here's chapter next. Sorry it's shortish!

* * *

Sara Sidle had never felt her heart pound so fast. She was out of breath and covered in sweat, unable to move. She stayed still, her arms next to her sides, and tried to remember everything. Regardless of the intense ire she had felt towards Gil Grissom when she had crawled into bed that night, her dream had been shockingly vivid and a welcome distraction to his absence. She was sure she could still feel his hands massaging her chest, his mouth manoeuvring down her torso, leaving a burning trail behind as he planted kisses between her trembling thighs.

But then Sara realized that she had not been woken by her alarm clock, but a ringing telephone. She reached over her heaving chest and picked it up, holding it shakily to her ear. "Hello?"

"Hello? I'm looking for Sara Sidle?"

"This is she." _Who would be calling at this hour?_

"Hello Miss Sidle. My name is Jenny. I'm a nurse at the general hospital."

"Oh no. I'll be right there." Sara let the phone click into the cradle as Nurse Jenny continued her customary 'your-friend-is-in-the-hospital' speech. Running down the stairs to her father's den, Sara barely registered the hot grain of the wood gripping onto her sweating feet, the carpet brushing on her toes, the paint on the wall letting out a faint whine as she hurried by it.

The door creaked when it opened, and she cringed, hoping her father wouldn't scold her for coming into his haven so late at night. He turned around to look her, a faint smile on his lips. "So he finally called?" He continued to hold his fountain pen in his hand, grinning at his daughter, until he saw the inevitable tears welling up in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks. "Honey," he requested her cooperation, "What is it?"

"I just got a call from the general hospital. We need to go there right away."

"Did they say what's wrong?" They stood by the front door, pulling jackets on over their pyjamas.

"No. I don't know what's happened. I just have to get there as fast as I can, Daddy."

--------------------

"_I want that one, Daddy." _

"_Please Daddy."_

Since he had met her, 11 year old Sara wouldn't leave Gil alone. Often, in the most inconvenient times, her voice would pop into his head. Gil rolled over, to the best of his ability, in the small hospital bed, and winced as pain shot from his knees into his gut. He didn't know where any one was, and since he had given the doctor that look, it seemed nobody wanted to deal with him, and most of the hospital staff was avoiding him.

And rightfully so: it seemed that most people in this day and age felt that slavery was an illness. Communicable through prolonged contact or over-zealous kindness. He had hoped, though, that at least Sara would come to him. Hold him in her arms and kiss him with little, burning pecks. Attempt to kiss away the pain. Try to push away the nightmares. She never succeeded but how good it felt to have her try. No one had cared enough to try since his mom.

"_Gil, I love you." Hands gesturing against his bare chest in the dark. Comfort from the nightmare they were living through together. There was a cold sweat over his body, and the blanket under them scratched against his hips. His eyes had gotten used to the dark and he could see his mother's face in the din. She was frowning, trying not to cry. She thought they were going to die._

_He wished they had._

Gil registered the beeps that ran in time with his heart, telling the world that he was alive. _Sorry. _He considered turning on the television, but decided against it when he felt a migraine coming on. Why was the machine beeping faster?

_What's a code blue?_

"_You're dying."_

_No. _

"_Yup."_

_That's dumb. I only underwent minimal abuse compared to previous experiences._

"_You don't have to use big words on me. And I don't care if it was minimal. You're DYING."_

_That's impossible._

"_Wrong. It is possible. It's happening right now. Look. They're using electricity to wake you up."_

_What?!?!_

"_Look."_

Gil's body jolted with electricity and his eyes ripped open. A steady beeping sound assaulted his ear. "I've got a pulse!" Someone near him sounded moderately happy to have saved the patient.

"You gave us quite a scare there, Mr. Grissom."

Gil massaged a sore spot on his chest, "Me too." The hospital personnel slowly filed out of his room as a report was filled out.

"I'll have a nurse get you a new gown."

"Why?"

"It's not uncommon to experience bladder failure after a situation such as this." The doctor gestured towards the bed with his pen before putting down Gil's clip board and leaving the room.

Gil lifted up his blankets. "Shit." Since when had he lost touch with his body? He didn't feel himself dying, and then didn't even notice he had pissed the bed. He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a loud sigh. The only way this day could get any worse would be for –

"Hey Gil." Sara walked through the door, a large smile on her face. "What was all the commotion about?"

"I just died."


End file.
